Artificial Truth
by YamiPaladinofChaos
Summary: [Pre HBP] Washed on the shores of a desert island after a narrow escape from the Dark Lord, Harry Potter's new power sets him on a journey down a path to divinity and insanity. The lines between Good and Evil blend, after all, when one is God.
1. Lost

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

Summary- After being tortured and narrowly escaping death once more, Harry Potter is left stranded on a desert island after his fifth year. With a new power that changes everything and his sanity slipping away, can Harry save the world? And will he want to fight to save it, when he makes his own paradise?

AN: Even more so than normal in my stories, the romance, namely the H/Gness is light… possibly just hinted at or even unrequited. Oh and one more thing. If you don't like super-power Harry that is nearly almighty… you might want to leave. Unless you're curious what Harry acts like when he literally is almost a god while half-insane. Or perhaps a god and fully insane. I'm not sure.

* * *

Chapter 1 Lost 

On a desert island isolated in the Atlantic Ocean, a young boy of almost sixteen awakes slowly, clad in nothing except a ragged robe revealing his scarred chest and tattered shorts, barely concealing his male parts.

The boy lifted his head up, and promptly spewed out the seawater he had swallowed in grandiose amounts, hurling it from his bowels violently, coughing in between, feeling sand in every pore. He tried to speak, but found his throat cracked and dry, regardless of the seawater or because of it, he did not know.

He did not know anything.

He struggled to move, and found his limbs numb and unresponsive.

He felt nothing, save the waves lapping hungrily at his feet and back, the cold taking him over.

He passed out.

* * *

The young man awoke once more feeling the bright rays of the sun on his back, feeling the sunburn emblazoned on his back, feeling the now gentle waves lapping at his feet. 

This time, when he struggled to move, he succeeded, narrowly managing to get up, raising himself up with pale, cold arms.

He promptly fell back down, exhausted.

He didn't know where he was, how he got there, or even who he was, but he knew that the waves would drag him back soon.

So he crawled.

In his tired, narrow vision, he spotted a solitary tree, a silent sentinel watching the island and the waves and him. It was small and stubby, probably as tall as he was, without any fruit to bear or any helpful features save one. It had shade.

That was enough.

He crawled, and crawled, scraping his bare stomach against the sand, but ignoring it, just trying to reach the shade, to get out of the sun and sleep again.

After an eternity and two lifetimes, he reached the shade, coughing and sputtering and weak and practically dying, but alive.

He leaned up against the tree, feeling the hot sun against his body, warming him, and closed his eyes, falling back asleep.

The waves lapped against the shore silently, disappointed that their prey had escaped, or rejoicing that their passenger had gotten away safely, no one could tell.

The young man slept calmly, at peace, contrasting the painful and likely recent injuries it seemed his body had gone through. His raven hair covered his face, obscuring the half-open eyelids with emerald jewels sparkling underneath like a veil.

And just barely visible, if under close inspection, was a red mark, a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, in a land called England, in a city called London, in a house called Grimmauld Place, people were meeting. 

But not just any people.

Wizards.

And not just any wizards, but the Order of the Phoenix.

There were many of them, of all shapes and sizes. Two redheads, one male, one female, mates, the female looking distraught and afraid, the male attempting to comfort her gently. "Its okay Molly," Arthur Weasley soothed, "I'm sure he's fine."

"But Death Eaters Arthur! That poor boy… first Sirius and now this…" Molly Weasley sobbed into her husband's chest.

On the other side of the room, avoiding gazes from anyone was the lone wolf. Remus J. Lupin looked dead to the world, staring blankly through gray eyes, his light brown hair now almost completely shot with gray. He looked like a man going on sixty, not a man going on his early thirties. But none of that mattered to him.

He had failed.

He failed him.

He failed to uphold the unwritten, unspoken oath he had sworn on July 31st, 1980. He failed to save the last legacy of the Marauders, the first, and last generation of the Marauders.

He failed to save his family.

His pack was gone.

All around, panic is the preferred mannerism, chaos the state of order. Severus Snape looks pleased and apathetic at the same time, Nymphadora Tonks looks weary, Alastor Moody has closed his eyes (a very rare occurrence, seeing as how paranoid he is) in silent respect to a fallen man, Minerva McGonagall blows her nose and sniffles behind a handkerchief, Bill Weasley watches in concern as his strong mother breaks down, while thinking of the others he should be looking after, who will be destroyed at what they learn.

And in the center, the normally eye of calm, the rock of strength, the dependable constant that always triumphs, is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. But there is no strength emanating from him, none of that calm that others draw calm from, that even the most distraught can not find comfort in, but an overwhelming, all encompassing, encroaching weariness and utter sadness.

He is not the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Head of the Order of the Phoenix, or the only one Voldemort has ever feared, but an old man, perhaps a grandfather or even a father who has lost a child of his own, the most dear to him.

He looked around, and glanced at Severus Snape, his loyal ally and friend, and today, no smile came from the knowledge that he was possibly Severus' only true friend. "Severus… your report?" He asked. His voice was no longer genial and calm and his eyes twinkling, but saddened.

Severus resisted a sneer on his face. He could still remember the vicious punch Molly Weasley gave him the first time he reported news on the boy with a sneer. "The Dark Lord is secretive and even the Inner Circle is no longer able to talk to him. He has been spending all his time with Potter. The only person in contact with the Dark Lord is Pettigrew." Although Snape didn't say it, he believed that the Dark Lord relied on Pettigrew because the worm was no threat. "I believe that the Dark Lord has killed him off."

Molly Weasley broke out into a fresh sob, and Bill Weasley glared at his former Potions Master, while his father tried to bring comfort to his mother.

McGonagall looked tired and sad, as did all of them. Except Albus Dumbledore.

He looked beyond tired, beyond sad. He looked near death, it seemed. His endless vitality was gone, replaced with a weariness befitting his true age.

With a heart as heavy as lead, he stood to give his terrible news that broke his heart when he heard it, that took all the century and a half of experience he had to keep himself together. "My… friends…" Dumbledore said softly, almost a whisper, and the Order stopped moving, caught and spellbound by his words, "I am afraid Mister Potter is indeed gone missing, and is most likely dead at the hands of Lord Voldemort."

* * *

That night, Arthur Weasley tumbled out of the fireplace, having left his wife back at Grimmauld place. His angel was too broken-hearted to leave, to travel then and there. 

And so he went alone, to tell and break more hearts. In front of him, his two youngest children sit in fear and silence, while another child dear to him waits alongside them.

"Dad?" Ron whispered.

His youngest looked up, unshed tears making her brown eyes larger and more bright than ever before. One of their, maybe their only, best friend looked up at the same time, tear tracks running down her face.

"I…Harry's… gone." Arthur whispered, but just as he finished, as the words departed from his mouth, Ginny broke out into a sob and tears spilled out from her eyes, while Hermione broke out into a fresh bout of crying.

Ron stood in shock, having gotten up to greet his father. His face was pale, his eyes wide, his hands shaking.

"I'm sorry." Arthur said softly.

Ron shook his head violently as the two girls sobbed louder. "No." Ron whispered. "NO!" He yelled angrily. "I won't believe it! He's not dead!"

Hermione sobbed louder, with Ginny joining her, the two making a mournful song of agony.

Arthur only watched as the three of the strongest children, of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, fell to pieces, lost without a leader.

* * *

Deeper into the night, Ginny Weasley lay in her bed, sobbing her eyes out, dampening her pillow with her bitter tears. 

She had denied it, and denied it, hid her heart, put up a front, did anything and everything she could to stop the magnificent addiction she had to Harry Potter.

Nothing worked.

He had her from the moment they met, six years ago at Kings Cross station.

She was in love with him.

And now he was dead.

_It wasn't fair!_ She raged within herself. Harry had gone through so much. To die, alone and just in the wake of Sirius' passing was too much.

He died at the hands of Tom.

He died alone, at the hands of Tom.

Tom wouldn't have let him die easily.

He shouldn't have died like that.

"He's not dead." She whispered softly. "He's not dead." The mantra was her rope of life, that single line that kept her from falling into a pit of despair.

The door creaked, and Ginny turned over to see her brother creeping in, lost and alone. "Gin." Ron rasped, his voice hoarse from countless minutes of screaming and raging.

Without making a sound, as she did in younger and happier days, she ran into her older brother's arms and sobbed her heart out, letting her tears flow.

Ron held her, feeling her tears soak his shirt, tears he refused to shed himself.

"He's not dead, he's not dead, he'll come back, he always comes back," Ginny kept whispering into his shirt, either to reassure him or herself, he was unsure.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered hoarsely, moving closer to the siblings.

Ron shook his head, looking at his sobbing little sister. The strongest of all of the Weasley children, despite being the smallest, she survived You-Know-Who and was still a strong, vivacious girl, resisting her brothers attempts to smother her.

Ron admired her for that. He always felt smothered by his brothers, by his family's financial status. Ginny did not.

It was why he thought Harry would be perfect for her. Harry was everything he wanted in a brother-in-law. A great bloke, his friend, trustworthy, and could keep Ginny from harm.

And Ginny was perfect for him. He watched as his little sister turned into a young woman, watched her stand up to Harry in a way no one else ever could, ever would. He watched her try to forget him.

That annoyed him. No one except Harry was good enough for his sister.

Ron couldn't give anyone else his admiration, his respect, at least enough to be trusted with his baby sister. No one except Harry had that kind of right.

And he had thought things were going well. His sister had shown Harry her true nature, and he had begun dropping hints for Harry that he was okay with it. He knew Harry quite well, and knew how much he respected and admired people's strength. He had hoped Harry would do more than respect and admire Ginny.

And now, for all intents and purposes, in all likelihood, Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was now dead.

Ron felt his tears escape his eyes, anointing his little sister with them as the last of his best friends, it seemed, sobbed nearby.

And from the shadows, Arthur Weasley watched, feeling helpless, as all parents do, when their children face a trial that a parent cannot help them in. He could not go in there. To go in there would be to offer words of comfort.

Words cheapen the moment. Anything he said would cheapen or make the apparent death of Harry Potter certain. And either of those possibilities could do immense damage to his children.

And so he watched, helpless, only able to pray that by some miracle, Harry James Potter had survived the wrath of Lord Voldemort, and would make his way back from the abyss of death, as he did many a time.

Except this time, it was more and more likely he was dead, and no evidence, no friends, no last-minute cavalry could come and save him.

Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was lost.

* * *

AN: Angsty. Again, chances for Harry/Ginny is… not so good. Thanks for reading and please review! 


	2. Divine Madness

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: I changed the genre to Drama/Angst. I wrote ahead and it looks more dramatic and angsty than spiritual.

* * *

Chapter 2 Divine Madness

_Pandemonium all around him. He feels his body running down a corridor. Words tumble out of his mouth, familiar yet foreign. "She killed Sirius! I'll kill her!"_

_ Words echo back now. A new scene appears. He has a stick in his hand raised, and shouts another familiar yet foreign word, a word that seethes with hatred and bubbles with rage. "Crucio!"_

_ A woman before him, gaunt, pale, with a hated visage despite the boy only seeing her for the first time in this dream, screams in agony as a jet of red light hits her._

_ He feels that he should feel guilt, but at the same time feels satisfied._

_ Madness._

_ Now the scene changed again. In front of him is an old man in robes, a stick raised in his hand, looking weary and alert. Pain erupts in every pore, every bone, every piece of him, a snake writhing through his insides and into his mind, wrapping itself around his very brain and squeezing it, strangling it._

_ He screams, yet no sound comes out of his mouth. He wants the pain to end, wants to stop hurting, wants to join someone in death._

_ The scene changes again, and now he's watched a man, gaunt as the woman before, with long, stringy black hair covering a visage familiar to him, this one heart-warming, as the man falls through a black veil, and disappears through._

_ He knows that the man is gone, and screams a heart rending scream, feeling part of his body, part of himself, part of his very essence leave too. _

* * *

From this nightmare, the boy awakes in cold sweat, tired but alive. This time, strength is in him, and a carnal hunger for food, but more importantly, drink. His throat feels parched, a desert, and he feels that if he does not drink water soon, he must soon spontaneously combust.

Quickly, scrambling with numb and clumsy limbs, he stumbled over, searching for water, sweet, clear water, and finds nothing but dry sand.

He looked around desperately, feeling the burning sun searing him, feeling his throat scream for water. He tried to open his mouth and speak, to yell out for help, but nothing comes but a rattle, a slight escape of breath.

He looks around, and there is nothing.

He is surrounded by nothing, by a prison of nothing.

The greatest prison of all.

But then he spied it.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he turns and despite his agony, a grin spreads across his face.

Water. An oasis in this desert of water. It sparkles and glitters like sapphire gemstones, teasing him with its cool gaze.

He rushed towards it, moving with the same clumsy grace, and lands in front of it, eagerly putting his fingers in a cup shape and lifting it upwards, to drink.

Instead of cool, soothing water seeping into his hands, he feels gritty, hot sand burning into his flesh, stealing his own inner water. Sand slipped through his fingers as he opened them in shock, feeling hot air searing into his throat as his body screamed for water while his eyes only looked in shock as the oasis, that glittering savior, became dull, tan sand.

He sobbed angrily, and toppled to the ground in despair.

* * *

For an unknown amount of time the boy wallowed in despair and misery and sorrow, his flesh burning in the midday sun and his eyes crusted with sand and tears he had shed long ago, before he landed here, in this purgatory.

He lay there, sobbing desperately for salvation as he crawled more, but could not move. So he tried to stand, and found he could do little more than shake for a moment.

Trying twice more, he eventually managed to lift himself up and sit down, to keep his belly from being scratched into anymore.

The young man sat in despair, in a dementia of hunger and thirst, staring at the sand that had once been an oasis.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

That was water.

It was.

It had to be.

It would be water.

Suddenly, the dementia parted and a clear though echoed within him. It would be water, if he willed it.

He willed it to. He willed it to become water, to be water, to not be sand, to have there be true water, truth in there, not this ugly lie.

Truth was beautiful, this was ugly. False, lies were ugly.

Lies were chains, Truth was freedom.

Lies were death. Truth was life.

Sand was a lie. Water was Truth.

It had to be a lie. The sand had to be a lie. Truth was beautiful. Truth was not this.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, within the hidden depths of the Ministry of Magic, in the very deepest part of the most secret department, the aptly named Department of Mysteries, a room lay, tucked away in a hidden yet revealed corner.

Every day, hundreds of people milled by, unaware of the great power locked within.

A room that had been closely guarded and heavily warded against entry, ever since that day, fifteen years ago. Albus Dumbledore had came then, had come and left an object that held immense power, until the day it was needed.

A room kept locked at all times, for the power it holds is too great and terrible.

A room that held the salvation of the world. All it needed was a key.

Today, no key was needed. The power within was needed by its master, its master called for it.

And it answered. The sleeping might erupted outwards, demolishing the room within seconds and the object that held it as it were nothing more than a speck of dust.

As one, that power moved. A bright golden orb of potent power, of potential power flew out from the Department of Mysteries with inestimable speed, appearing as a flash to whoever was passing, before leaving the building, then gaining speed, and rapidly disappearing into the horizon, in the direction of its master.

* * *

At that moment, the young boy felt clearer, felt stronger than he'd ever been, regardless of his voracious hunger and thirst, regardless of the old wounds plaguing him, the nightmares battering his sanity.

It was Truth, shining down on him brighter than any light.

He felt it, warming him, making him feel peaceful, giving him renewed strength.

The land around him seemed reverent of what had happened, and the light shined down upon him, clear as day. Trees whispered like the whispers of awe at a miracle, the wind tickled his skin, a touch of one who wishes only to bask in the glory of a greater being, and the waves seemed to have gone silent, prayers to a new power.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, or lasted less than the blink of an eye.

The boy knew something had changed. In that one moment, something within him had changed drastically.

He didn't know whether it was his power, or his sanity. It was most likely both.

And it spoke, a whisper, a slight breeze in the wind but he heard, he heard and did as it asked.

Focusing on the land in front of him, he willed water to be there, told himself there was water, that water did exist and he just needed to bring it form.

_There is water_, he repeated in his mind, over and over, the mantra that kept him on the path of madness or sanity, damnation or salvation, hope or despair, he could not tell. But he continued regardless.

He stared hard, piercing and burning the sand with his eyes, forcing his will upon it, forcing and shaping violently, hoping against all sane things, against sanity itself, that the sand would become water.

And suddenly, without a whisper or an explosion, nor a bang or a whimper, without even the tiniest movement or the biggest, there was water.

An oasis of it, glittering and sparkling and really there, truly there. At least in his mind, in his sight, within the depths of his psyche.

And the young man stared at it, in absolute wonder.

Was that his doing?

His mind told him to find out, and his limbs obeyed, moving him uncertainly towards the oasis, one step, two steps, three steps, over and over, echoing in his mind as he watched in shock, a spirit watching his body move autonomously. Every step was slow and careful, as if the oasis was a beast that would take flight the second he moved too close, or too fast.

Finally, he reached the oasis and bent down slowly, moving with agonizing slowness, terrified the oasis would disappear, that it was all just a dream and he was just insane.

Reverently, slowly, he cupped his hands and dipped it in, pulling the sweet liquid, that life giving substance, up to his mouth. He felt the coolness, the wetness in his hands, that cold substance giving him chills that soothed his burning skin.

He paused. Was it a trick?

Was he going mad?

Was this actually water, or was he just crazy, seeing another mirage?

The answer came to him, or the question.

It wasn't a question of madness.

It was madness either way.

Either he was going mad, with an illusion of water before him, feeling the illusion, or he was insane, creating something out of nothing. Whether he was an insane mortal, or an insane creator. He was either the madman or the mad god.

The madness of gods or the madness of mortals.

Did any of it matter?

Did it matter if he was a creator or mortal, if he was a madman or a god?

This was all madness.

It was a question of whether or not it was divine madness.

He would answer that question now.

And so, reverently or cautiously, quickly or slowly, he lifted it to his lips and drank. Life or death, to live or to die. Either way, be merry.

And so he drank, expecting to feel burning sand down his throat, seeping into his blistered and cracked throat, killing him.

Whether he died or he lived, he would be free of his agony.

Either way, he was finished with the pain. Life or Death, both were escape from this Purgatory of suffering and agony.

And then it happened.

Water poured down his throat, a waterfall of sweet nectar, cooling his burned, parched throat and he drank greedily, hungrily.

He did not know how it came to pass, he did not care at the moment, that space in time. He had drink.

Quickly, moving with the speed born of greed, he gulped down more and more water, eager to see if he had only imagined or if he had truly done what he thought he did.

And more water poured down his throat, free and clear, refreshing him.

The young man felt a burning desire to keep drinking, demanding him to, and he could only comply whole-heartedly, wanting drink. And with every drink, the desire did not smolder and smoke, but burned brighter than any fire he had ever seen before, propelling him onwards to drink more.

This was true madness, propelling him to drink more and more as he continued to bask in what he had done. The madness settled into his stomach and allowed him to see truth, or perhaps the truth had turned him mad.

It didn't matter either way.

And when he was done, he laughed thankfully or insanely, he could not tell the difference anymore.

Divine madness.

* * *

Thanks to Lady of Masbolle, japanese-jew, Silver Butterfly04, Hunter101, ThePianoFiend, Black Padfoot, LongLiveHarry, Starfire Greenleaf, Pleione, Ciupacapra, Cathy-Ann, moonfyre, Cattatra, Treck, azntgr01, FroBoy, Tanydwr, Shaldana Blackwater, Egyptian Flame, stuffiness, mashimaromadness, and Wren Truesong for reviewing!

Q&A

japanese-jew- I remember how in Reap What You Sow you said Harry wasn't insane enough. Is he insane enough yet, or should I continue?

Hunter101- Wait, you're thinking this is going to be Dark Harry? Far from it. This is going to be INSANE Harry. I'm glad you think it's good. The title, Artificial Truth, actually makes sense deeper into the story. You've got a taste of it here.

Starfire Greenleaf- Don't cry! The scene with Ron was pretty intense.

Cathy-Ann- That's a question that won't be answered for a bit. As for how Harry is going to eat, the above chapter should have clued you in.

moonfyre- It's a gift, and a curse. I have so many ideas, they all want me to write them. I'm glad you like this and the rest of my stories.

Cattatra- True.

Treck- I love H/G, I just can't see it happening here. Not with what I've done. I tried to think of something. As for torturing Snape, that's the territory of Dark Rage. And believe me, Snape will get his there.

Tanydwr- Actually, maybe I could work H/G in here. But it would be wayyyy off into the story. And Harry is going insane, not fully there yet, but he could probably still recognize love. As for Ginny bringing Harry back, it's a bit clichéd, isn't it? Don't get me wrong, I love the idea, its just… more fun the way I'm going to do it. (My sense of fun is a bit… twisted)

stuffiness- I'm not changing my writing style completely. That's just how this story is going to go. If you want something different, with less of those one-liners, Dark Rage and my other stories aren't going to change.

Wren Truesong- Your imagination probably does it better than I can.

AN: Whoa… That was pretty heavy. Is Harry insane, or something else? You decide. Thanks for reading and please review! It makes me feel good, and feel-good writers write more!


	3. Uneasy

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter or Magic The Gathering. (Put up because some of the storyline parallels a story from that universe)

* * *

Chapter 3 Uneasy

The next day, the gleaming sun found the young man asleep, the madness having left him and left him lying in near drying sand, wet from the water he regurgitated the night before.

The water had come too fast, too much.

He had spent an hour, heaving and hurling as his stomach rejected the water he created. Still, it had been a day of revelations, a day to learn. There would be more days such as that, with this strange new power.

His oasis glittered nearby, a gemstone sentinel, a marker of his creation. It glistened and gleamed, real, if only in the mind's eye of that young man.

He awoke slowly, feeling his limbs more awake and refreshed, but his bowels now clamored for something else. They hungered. He hungered for food.

The young man got up slowly, feeling his hunger tearing into him, his stomach demanding food, but ignored it for a moment. He could stand that pain for a few more minutes.

He spotted the oasis, and remembered how he created it. He smiled softly, a creator admiring his creation.

He moved closer to the glittering water, and for the first time, he looked himself in the eye, his reflection in the water.

When he looked into his own reflection for the first time since he arrived, he noticed he was a young man, with very distinct emerald green eyes and ebony hair, and a curious red mark in the shape of a lightning bolt seared into his forehead.

The boy stared at the mark for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration. Something about that mark was important…

Something flashed. A serpent man, with terrible red eyes and skin like bleached bone, with a high, cold laugh, and then all that was there was a flash of green light.

And then he blinked, and once more, he was staring himself in the face.

"Who am I?" He whispered, once more lost and afraid beside his creation.

The voice from before did not answer. It couldn't.

But as he struggled, fought his blank mind for answers, something drifted to him.

His name, or perhaps another's.

Sirius.

The name triggered a memory from his dream. The black haired man with a gaunt face and haunted eyes falling through a black veil, a veil of death…

A feeling of grief welled up within him, and he fell to his knees. He had only a name for the man, the name Sirius, but the name scratched edges of more memories, memories he could not or would not touch. Memories of times before the man, before Sirius, fell into the veil and was lost.

But it wasn't his name. What was his name?

He tried again, fighting for a memory.

Again, a name drifted into his thoughts, but this time, it was his. Somehow, he knew it.

Harry. The word, the name, seemed to be a drop of water, leaking out behind the dam that held back a stream, a tide, an ocean of memories of something both wonderful and terrible, waiting to drown the boy in it. But for now, all he had was his name.

"My name is Harry." He whispered softly. He touched his arm, where a welt had healed recently, wincing as his body ached with unconscious recollection of agony.

Another flash. A cold, sneering voice, "Potter… you are weak."

The red-eyed serpent man flashed with the voice. Then a new scene. A bald, portly man with frightened eyes and a silver hand holding his hand shakily, leading him somewhere, somewhere where he would experience nothing but endless pain.

The view of the merciless ocean, a better fate to die at the hands and furious power of nature than the fury of the red-eyed man. He was looking into that blue-green abyss of swirling darkness…

And then he was falling, falling, falling, and then blackness took him and he was once more staring into his own reflection, on his knees and paled in horror, his skin seemingly bleached by the fear that encroached across his mind.

As he struggled to stand up, he knew something more than the name Sirius and his own name, Harry. He knew something very important.

When he landed on this island, this purgatory, he had escaped from Hell, he knew.

Now it was time to find heaven.

* * *

Hunger took him first, however, on his quest to find heaven, and he stopped, looking around the barren island for food, and finding nothing.

All there was on the island was the solitary tree he slept under, and the oasis. No more life. The island was large, but everywhere, his view was mostly rocks past the soft yet steaming sand. Should he leave the sand, he'd die.

The tree was the only life so far, living off of something Harry could not tell what. A small plot of dirt was around the sand, where the tree lived.

The coarse sand strangled everything else, and from the looks of the withered tree, the last bit of life on the island was dying.

But now there was an oasis, an impossibility, yet it existed.

However it came to be, Harry knew one thing.

He could make more.

The voice told him so, that same voice that helped him create the oasis.

His muse of Creation.

He needed a meal, and so he began focusing, willing a spark of life into being. Unlike the oasis, it was much more difficult, having to light the spark of life.

Harry imagined a fish, swimming and living, into the oasis. It was very basic, an auburn color with curtain like fins and a tail, with small black eyes and a mouth. It was small, but all creators start small.

He willed it to be, to live.

And his will was done, as a fish took shape within the pond, slowly, much slower than the appearance of the oasis, but it took shape.

It was a goldfish. He flashed back to a memory of one, in a room filled with luxuries, a room that was not his.

_It's not that gold, _Harry thought to himself.

His muse said nothing.

Reaching out slowly, he grabbed at the fish.

But the fish had other plans, and darted away. Harry growled and launched himself at it, intent on a meal. The fish easily avoided it with the relatively large area it had to swim in.

He sputtered in disbelief. He created something, willed it to live. And so it did.

Harry laughed. "I was a fool. I told it to live." He muttered.

He focused again. _Not a fish this time_, he thought to himself.

His muse danced in his mind, bringing forth a new memory and name. A flightless bird with a tail that was useless and wings that was also useless, brownish with white-black feathers and a red apparatus hanging from its yellow beak and small head. An pink object was the head. A turkey.

_A stupid animal_, Harry remembered, another flash of a room and his comment. _"It's even more stupid than Dudley."_

He grinned at the memory despite not having a context for it, and let his will flow once more, withholding the command to live but giving the command to be.

And so it became real, a turkey appearing, first in outline, and then in shape, like painting in an outline on paper. The turkey squawked, and waited for nothing.

Harry moved close to it, a primal instinct taking over. This was a primal game. Taking life to live. Hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed. The only new addition to the ancient game was the power of Creation.

He grabbed it and broke its neck quickly, slightly remorseful but assuring himself it was okay, as it was his creation, and after he tore off the feathers wildly, hungrily, he tore into the soft flesh underneath the feathers, picking some off the meat in gobbets, as he lifted the raw flesh to his mouth and bit down hungrily.

The gory juices splattered, and the meat tasted foul, but primal instinct demanded him to take more, to eat, and he complied, devouring the meat and going for more, a flesh eater.

The madness returned, demanding him to devour, to eat. It was, after all, his own creation. It was created to serve him, to feed him.

And so Harry devoured his own creation, a primal situation created by divine means.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, Lord Voldemort seethed above the dead corpse of Peter Pettigrew, alias Wormtail.

He was not angry that Wormtail was dead.

He was angry because he had killed Wormtail too fast.

When he had learned of Harry Potter's escape, right under his clutches, plummeting into the sea, he had been in a wrath alike to the rage of a god, or more accurately, a devil.

The man once known as Tom Riddle burned, brimming with untold anger and no outlet. He wanted to call a random servant in and torture them to death, just to let out this anger. But he wouldn't yet.

Voldemort did not want to see one of his servants yet, did not want to have to make them fear him so they would not question him, for they would know. If Lord Voldemort was not waving around the severed head of Harry Potter on a pike or any other vision of victory, then Harry Potter had bested the dark Lord once more.

How could anyone possibly lose hold of a boy that had just gone through a private torture session with Lord Voldemort personally!

The boy could barely walk. Voldemort had told Wormtail to take him out and let him relieve himself, he didn't want to smell any of it, and the boy had managed to escape!

The boy was wily, the Dark lord acknowledged.

But he was also content with the knowledge that the boy was dead. No mortal could have survived the pernicious descent into the storming rage of the ocean. Especially not a recently tortured boy not even sixteen years of age.

But if the Boy-Who-Lived lived, which, despite his hopes, he knew would happen by the luck bordering on divine intervention that the blasted child had, Lord Voldemort was also satisfied that the boy would have to have drowned or severely maimed if he had been rescued.

Besides, the Dark Lord remembered, a deadly smile flitting across his features, his wand his broken. He smiled at the memory of the breaking the wand in front of the Boy-Who-Lived, the look of shock and horror on the face of the Boy-Who-Lived as the pieces of holly fell to the floor and a single phoenix feather drifted down.

There was no magical way that the boy had to save himself, and that cut off the best solutions.

And yet, Lord Voldemort felt uneasy.

* * *

At the same time, unknown to Lord Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore felt uneasy as well, but for a different reason than whether or not the Boy-Who-Lived had lived.

His feelings on that reason were downright in mourning.

No, his uneasiness came from the report on his desk. His close friend, Liam Mackwell had given him a report. Liam Mackwell was head of the Department of Mysteries, and one of two men in the world who knew what kind of power was hidden within his department.

The other was he.

The hidden item in question was why Albus Dumbledore was uneasy about the report. Liam had never been so urgent or agitated before, always being a rock of calm and stability. Liam made sure his department was independent, almost completely autonomous from the rest of the Ministry, concerned with the mysteries of magic.

One mystery, one secret, buried within, was a secret that was critical to defeating Voldemort.

And now it had been activated, or destroyed, or-

A trill from Fawkes broke his thoughts. _Merlin bless that bird, _Dumbledore muttered inwardly, chuckling.

No. He dared not believe it was stolen. His wards had been destroyed, not activated. No force on earth could have ripped through those wards but himself with such force. And Dumbledore could only rip them away like that because they were his. Even Tom would have trouble defeating the wards.

He opened the folder, and gasped. The pictures and the tiny bag attached told more than a written report could. The powerstone, that rare pale amber crystal Dumbledore used to contain the power he had hidden away, was in shattered pieces within the plastic bag.

The pictures showed the very room he had been riding his hopes for the war effort on in shambles that were burnt and broken into pieces.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. Dumbledore knew what had happened, but he didn't know how or why.

Did the power escape because Harry needed it?

Did the power fade away violently, in its master's final hour?

The former question was his preferred one, but it seemed likely that what little he knew about the power he had sealed, it would most likely depart from the world if it could not be wielded.

And so the Headmaster of Hogwarts shifted in his seat and burned the document by tossing it into the fire, destroying the evidence as the crystals melted, relieved of their power and duty, the paper and pictures crumpling and blackening.

Uneasy, he got up, and even the concerned trill of Fawkes could not soothe his nerves this night.

* * *

Harry felt uneasy as well. He felt guilty too.

He created a creature, and killed it. The voice telling him it was his right to do so as creator was gone now. It was recognized as what it was.

The ancient adage was true. "Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely."

And there was no greater power, no greater intoxication, than the power to give and take life.

The power to Create, the power to Destroy.

He had both. He was both the Life-Giver, and the Avatar of Death. What he had done was a terrible crime. He had created a creature to die. He gave life to kill it. What was the sense in that?

What was the purpose of this power? Was there a reason he was given the endless power to create, but the mental and spiritual capacity of a mortal? Was there something more to do with it than live?

_Yes, there is._ The muse, or perhaps he himself answered. _You can create, you can make something truly beautiful, true life. _

He did not know if he could do such a grand thing. Harry was unsure of himself, whether or not a mere boy such as himself had the mind to create beauty. Although his stomach and mortal needs were filled, his spirit hungered for answers.

Harry's muse sat silently within the shadows of his mind, giving him no answers.

The emerald-eyed boy felt sleepy, hunger sated and, after a quick gulp of water, his thirst was as well. Now all he wanted to do was sleep.

But tomorrow, he would do more, he promised his muse. Tomorrow, he would begin to truly Create, not simply fulfill his needs. Tomorrow he would see what he could change.

His muse nodded, and danced within his mind, awaiting the next rising of the gleaming orb of light known as the sun, when it would help him create again.

* * *

Thanks to azntgr01, Diamond Phoenix, Zeromaru: Chaos Mode, Alan Quicksilver, Hunter101, Pleione, PinkyTheSnowman, Ciupacapra, moonfyre, FroBoy, Cattatra, Tanydwr, Harrie, Emma Barrows, skittles-07, and Lady of Masbolle for reviewing!

Q&A

Alan Quicksilver- In the original authors note for chapter 1, I put up that this was inspired by the Onslaught book and specifically Ixidor. On the other hand, you and I are probably the only people reading this that would know what I was talking about (if there is anyone else, please, tell me!), so I decided not to. Now don't spoil it for everyone else, but between you and me, this is going to be quite a lot like Onslaught, until I put my spin on it. Perhaps even a little angel might show up… you know which one. (grins) As for Harry playing the field, I like the idea, and it is quite realistic, but I really can't write that kind of stuff. (You know, like I can't write fluff.)

Hunter101- Well, Harry kind of has moral bounds for a while, but later, he might not.

PinkyTheSnowman- (Bows) Thanks! Oh, and would you mind checking out Shattered Reality, my other story? I'm currently putting Harry and Ginny in Hyrule, within the Ocarina of Time storyline. It said in your profile you like the Legend of Zelda. Zelink forever! (Yes, I do shamelessly self-plug.)

moonfyre- Harry's going to… well, even I'm not fully sure yet. Harry getting on the island is mentioned above, if you put the pieces together. The next two questions I'm afraid can't be answered, simply because it would totally ruin the story. For your last question, maybe Harry won't come to them.

Cattatra- There you go. I'm glad you liked me showing where Harry got his power, that whole room that is always locked thing just came to me.

Tanydwr- My sense of fun includes feeling good when I think up of character deaths in storylines. It's definitely twisted.

skittles-07- Still up in the air.

AN: Thanks for reading and please review!


	4. Constructed Paradise

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. I do hope one day to be as good as J.K. is at writing, though.

* * *

Chapter 4 Constructed Paradise

Harry awoke the next morning, refreshed, and a little queasy when he remembered he just ate a turkey, raw. Still, survival was a rough business.

His muse danced within his mind, making him remember the promise he made. Today, he would use his powers to create true things, to create life.

He would not be alone anymore. He would create life, would create an entire paradise for himself. There would be life on this island, and his life would have purpose.

With that mind set, that purpose, he got up, and began to let his muse and imagination flow, to let them bring forth creatures, images, sights, smells.

To make something truly live, to create an entire ecosystem, Harry would need a lot more concentration than what he used to create the goldfish and turkey.

He would need all his willpower.

True Creation would be more difficult than Harry originally thought.

* * *

The first thing Harry decided that his new land should have would be shade. He would make trees, trees that would live and grow and provide fruit and help him sustain his new land, and himself.

But the ground was unsuitable, he realized. Nothing but sand all around. Unless he willed that sand to become fertile soil, to be a life giving ground, to be the building blocks of his new paradise.

Harry's muse danced, and gave him the inspiration. Patient, slow growth, that would be what he would envision within his soil. It would be the most fertile ground in the world.

Focusing, Harry closed his eyes after freezing a mental image of the unchanging, coarse and tanned sand, willing it to become brown, soft soil. Patient growth was his paint, and the canvas was the land, as Harry worked his art.

When he opened his eyes, the ground was brown, as far as the eye could see, until it touched the beach and intermingled with it and made tanned sand and brown dirt into one ground. Harry smiled.

The first brick of his new land had been laid down, the cornerstone. Soon, his new home, his paradise, his sanctuary, would be finished. Now Harry envisioned trees, soaring, giant trees, whip thin ones, short ones, fat ones, ones with large fruit, small fruit, ones that had no fruit but smelled sweet and felt soft, all filling the picture of his mind, and soon to fill the vision of the land.

So shall it be willed, so shall it be done.

"Wicked," Harry managed to pull that world out his darkened mine, and smiled, a feeling of friendship and a flash, too short to tell who it was, but still, a friendly feeling. All around him, there were trees, the trees from his mind. He smiled, and plucked a sienna colored fruit out of a perfectly proportioned tree, a tree that produced fruit at just his height. He bit into the fruit, and the juices exploded into his mouth, filling his senses with a sweet, tangy flavor, earthly and yet unearthly at the same time.

Harry sat down, smiling, enjoying the taste of the fruit he created, a fruit that existed no where else, but was inspired from the blank forms of his memory, inspired by his muse. He bit into the sienna fruit twice more, finishing it off, sighing with satisfaction. The tree rustled in the wind, as if beckoning Harry to taste more of its fruit, but the creator was satisfied for now.

Yet, as his stomach settled and he cast a satisfied eye over his land, from the forest that surrounded him to the oasis turned pond behind him, that shimmered in the forests elusive light, he found that he was uneasy again. This time, he found the forest too quiet, which was of course, understandable. Forests were full of life, which by proxy has sound, and this forest had only the movements of its creator within its depths.

Harry focused again, and began to conjure up the image of a new animal, as his muse danced faster and faster in his mind, casting the image with every twirl and dance and movement the muse made.

It took form within his mind, the creature did. It took a long, graceful neck with a relatively small head and tiny antlers, with a lithe, agile body, and a shimmering earth brown coat. Beside it, another of its kind, this one more bulky and with larger muscles and an apparatus that defined it was male, appeared. Harry opened his eyes, and, just as it had been done before, the two animals appeared, stepping cautiously, eyeing their creator warily, before bounding off into the woods.

Harry smiled, watching them go, before falling back down to the ground to sit. He was tired, as all true creation had to be draining on the soul, the mind, and the body. All things needed to feel at least uncomfortable to create something, if not feel pain. That was how Harry had begun to create, in the agony that happened before he created the oasis, the agony of giving something form, giving it life.

That was how all things came into life, through pain and anguish, how pain and death by proxy turned to true life, and creation.

* * *

A few hours later, Harry was once again lying on the ground, exhausted, completely and utterly spent. He had finished his forest.

A meter tall auburn colored squirrel frolicked with another, equally tall squirrel, high above him on the boughs of one tree, one among many Harry had not yet named.

The squirrels were provided from his memories, given to him by his muse. He found them a little too small for his liking, and quickly enlarged them in his mind.

Nearby, a gurgling, giggling river lapped playfully on its banks, flowing steadfastly towards the ocean. It originated from the oasis that Harry first created, and was something he had almost forgotten to add.

A snow-white ferret with crimson eyes darted to and fro on the ground, causing a smile to crack on Harry's face. For some strange reason, he was always greatly amused whenever he saw that ferret, which was why he created it.

The ferret squeaked in fright of some unnamed foe, and ran off quickly. The unnamed foe turned out to be a three meter long snake that slithered on the ground, stalking the ferret amusedly, which was what Harry had asked it to do when it wasn't busy sleeping or eating the giant squirrels. It was forbidden to eat the ferret, simply because it amused Harry so much, and gave him a sort of guilty, vindictive pleasure.

The snake nodded and hissed at him. _"Hello massster." _

"_Hello._" Harry greeted back. It had been quite an amusing moment, he supposed, when he learned he could talk to snakes. The snake just greeted him, like it had done now, but Harry hadn't greeted back, but fallen right into the river.

For once, Harry had been glad no one was around to watch him.

He himself had changed along with his surroundings. He now wore a plain black robe that was open at the front, and a much better looking pair of trousers than his previous ones. His skin had begun to tan, and his injuries were nearly faded. He was beginning to grow stronger, just like his powers, and to look much healthier than before, much like the island on which he lay.

Yes, this place was a constructed paradise.

* * *

In another part of the world, Severus Snape was in Hell, or at least in the Devil's presence.

The red eyed devil paced slowly in front of the Inner Circle, his midnight black robes swirling and swishing around him, his deathly pale skin contrasted in the dim firelight.

Finally, the Devil known as Lord Voldemort spoke. "We will move against the Ministry and Dumbledore soon. Begin preparations for an attack immediately."

Snape resisted the urge to blink and ask the question his other master had asked of him. Where was the Potter brat?

Luckily, an impetuous Bellatrix Lestrange asked it for him. "Master, where is Potter?"

Lord Voldemort paused in his pacing, as if weighing his next words and schemes, or perhaps weighing how long he would hold Bellatrix under the Cruciatus. Finally, he spoke after seemingly endless minutes. "Potter is... disposed of. Wormtail accidentally allowed the boy to fall in the ocean."

Snape's eyes nearly widened in surprise, but years of discipline had steeled his reflexes. "So, Potter is dead," Snape asked quietly, "Master?"

Lord Voldemort turned towards him, smiling slightly and cruelly. "Indeed, Severus. I am disappointed I could not further Potter's... punishment, but Wormtail graciously agreed to take the cup of my wrath."

Every Inner Circle member winced and shuddered in unison. The Wrath of Lord Voldemort would not have been an easy death.

"I will let the world know soon that Potter is dead, and then we will strike in the chaos that follows."

"When shall we begin master?" Bellatrix whispered eagerly, fingering her wand.

The Dark Lord cast a dark smile on the female Death Eater. "Soon enough Bellatrix."

"Potter's death may make him a martyr, my Lord." Lucius Malfoy cut in slowly, smoothly.

"True enough, Lucius," The Dark Lord said indulgently, "But it will also throw the public into a panic. And a show of force soon after will crush their morale." The Dark Lord paused for a moment, smiling widely to reveal his fangs, his crimson eyes glittering like rubies.

"The death of the Boy-Who-Lived will prove to the world once and for all that no one escapes Lord Voldemort." He smiled wider. "No one."

Severus knew that that smile would haunt his nightmares for years after this meeting, and somehow, felt a small twinge of pity for those who would feel the fury of the Dark Lord.

And, although he bitterly fought against the idea and hated it, something in him lost hope at knowing the Boy-Who-Lived had died. And an even more unacknowledged part of him felt a miniscule shred of comfort that the boy had not suffered for too long.

He also felt an slight revulsion at the fact that he was deathly afraid of what would happen if he said something wrong about how the boy had died to Molly Weasley.

* * *

Thanks to Gaps, azntgr01, Alan Quicksilver, ashleighm, moonfyre, PinkyTheSnowman, Lady of Masbolle, FroBoy, danjo210, Cattatra, Wren Truesong, Gohan00, Emma Barrows, dead feather, and Neo Seeker for reviewing!

Q&A

Lady of Masbolle- Probably know resurrected Sirius

danjo210- That doesn't really work here. Heck, I can't see much romance working here for the most part.

Wren Truesong- Harry's version of Heaven is just peaceful. Of course, you, me, and everyone else from here to that tiny planet next to Alpha Centuari knows that Harry's life can never be peaceful.

Neo Seeker- Sorry if you don't like it. Just ignore this one and write Dark Rage. Personally, sometimes I have mixed feelings about it too.

AN: Sorry it's so short, there's just not much to do here. Thanks for reading and please review!


	5. Guardian

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. I do hope one day to be as good as J.K. is at writing, though.

AN: Magic the Gathering players should recognize something similar in this chapter and in this storyline in general... perhaps a few legendary cards...

* * *

Chapter 5 Guardian

Harry was uneasy again.

Here he was, surrounded by all sorts of creatures and lands that sprang from his own mind, with creatures he had envisioned and given life to.

So why was he so damn uneasy!

Harry knew why.

How could a Creator (Harry dared not call himself a god, for fear of corruption), live with his creation?

Could he?

He formed these beings, this place from his mind.

Was this all in his mind?

What if it was just a dream, a mad fantasy concocted by his pain addled, near death mind?

How was it possible that he, a mere human, could create such creatures as if he was making a model of them in the sand?

The silence was deafening, and his muse gave him no answers.

Harry wanted companions, someone to talk to. But he was afraid to create another sentient being, lest it turn on him or leave him. To do so would be to affirm his power at a level that humans were not supposed to reach and mortal became divine.

He was not ready to transcend his mortality. He did not want to grow corrupt with the knowledge of his power.

The silence continued to reign, but it might as well have been thunder, might as well have been the ocean that attempted to drown him days ago. He was drowning in the silence from within and from the outside world.

Harry angrily stormed away from the beings of his own creation; his mind giving him no answers and the whistling wind mocked him.

* * *

_Darkness. All around Harry, there was darkness. _

_ He looked around and saw nothing but a dead tree, dying grass, and tombstones all around him._

_ A graveyard, he knew._

_ A familiar graveyard, somehow, he knew that this was a place he had been to before. _

_ A terrible place, where Evil had been resurrected._

_ And then suddenly, He appeared._

_ Terrible, dangerous, and pure evil, the creature rose. Cloaked in a veil of shadows, it was the darkness. Its form was human, yet Harry knew quite well it was not human._

_ His skin was pale, bleached bone covering bone, his fingers long and spider-like, too thin to be human, too long. He was unnaturally tall as well; his neck serpentine and his head more like a skull than anything else._

_ And his eyes were the most terrible of all, a deep blood crimson, burning with unnatural and unholy fire. He looked like a serpent, but a man._

_ The serpent man from his visions._

_ And then he spoke. "I have found you, Harry. You will die tonight. Tonight, you will not escape Lord Voldemort's grasp."_

_ Harry's forehead, that strange mark with the lightning bolt now felt like true lightning had struck his skull, splitting it, cleaving his thoughts apart in absolute agony._

_ He screamed, falling to the ground in a docile position as the pain spread infectiously, burning into his bones and skin and eyes and mouth, burning him up._

_ Harry knew he would die. He tried to summon up his powers of Creation, but he could not do it, his muse had left him, his concentration was impossible to attain while he was in so much pain._

_ The serpent man, Lord Voldemort, removed a wand from his sleeve, and opened his mouth to say something._

_ Despite his amnesia, Harry knew what words he would say, and what would happen. "Avada Kedavra" were the words, the flash of green light would happen, and then the sound of rushing death._

_ Old and yet new words spilled into his mind, spoken once before and right now by Lord Voldemort. "No mudblood mother to die for you now." _

_ His mother. An image of a beautiful woman spilled into his mind, the image of a redhead with bright green eyes. She had saved him once before._

_ "Mother…" Harry whispered, as many children do, for their mother in their hour of need. _

_ Lord Voldemort smirked, and raised his wand. Harry's forehead burned with the fires of Hell, as if a sword had brutally cleaved into it with agonizing slowness. _

_ "MOTHER!" Harry screamed._

_ The first word of death formed. "Avada-"_

_ "MOTHER!!!" Harry screamed in terror._

_ Lord Voldemort's second word, Kedavra, died in his mouth. _

_ This was thanks to the sword that had loped off his wand arm. _

_ The serpent-like man screamed in agony, staggering aside, Darkness giving way to Light._

_ And what Light it was. The purest thing Harry had ever seen, a true creature of beauty and yet also a warrior. Her feet dangled just above the unhallowed ground, as if the ground feared her touch, knowing it was not worthy. She wore white flowing robes that were still battle ready, and had large wings like those of an eagle, powerful and holding her aloft. In one hand she held a sword that was pure white from hilt to tip, save for the pure golden trimmings on the hilt. Her skin was alabaster, her hair a halo of fire, her eyes bright green, so like his, and yet unlike his. _

_ He had only one word to whisper. "Mother?"_

_ The angel said nothing, only smiling at Harry, a mother's loving smile, then turning towards the Darkness, towards Voldemort. The serpent-man screamed as the angel struck him, cleaving him into two pieces with her mighty blade, and Lord Voldemort screamed as he was destroyed._

_ The angel turned smiled at Harry, and then he fell into a pure bliss of whiteness. _

* * *

Harry awoke from his visions, underneath his tree, to find himself untouched, unharmed, without the angel. He sighed in loss and remorse. The angel of his visions was gone.

"Hello Harry." A voice whispered, the voice of purity and truth, the voice of love and harmony, the voice of an angel.

Harry's head shot up, and he stared at her in wonder. The angel of his dream was real.

"You're… real." Harry breathed.

"Your dream was the inspiration. You needed me, and I was created." She was brutally pure in his eyes, her light purging and powerful. Her visage in the real world was even more beautiful and wonderful and terrible, contrasted with the imperfect world she floated in front of.

Harry felt unworthy. He was a young, unhealthy boy who was scarred and flawed and his clothes were in tatters, barely clothing him.

She was an angel, an impossibly perfect creature, a Light in a world of Gray and Dark.

And yet, he knew. He was her Creator.

"Hello Harry, my Creator, my master." She whispered, her tone equally reverent and it reverberated around him, surrounding him with joy.

Harry felt tears run down his face, tears of a soul who was not worthy to face such purity, but who created it.

He could not call her it. She was a creature, and she needed a name. "What is your name?" Harry asked softly.

The angel bowed her head. "I have no name, master. You are my creator. You decide for me."

"I…" Harry was taken aback. Purity was asking him, a pitiful boy on an island, going insane, for a name?

She looked like his mother. His mother's own name drifted towards him. Lily. Her deed for him too, her sacrifice so that Harry could live on.

It seemed too little for the angel, even his own mother's name was unworthy to call this vision of absolute good. And yet, she could not be called anything else, for she had his mother's face and was his protector, his Guardian.

She would take the place of his long-dead mother, take the place of his previous protector, the one who died for him. This angel would protect him too, Harry knew, somehow. Despite not being worthy, he would be protected by the Guardian.

"You shall be called Lily, for you are my Guardian." Harry whispered softly, reverently, reaching out to the angel.

"My life is yours, I shall protect you always." The angel Lily nodded, smiling in joy, and pulled him into an embrace, pulling him into her brutally pure light, her touch both agony and comfort. She swept him into her arms and held Harry to her breast, and let soothed him to sleep, as her wings surrounded them, shielding the Creator and the Guardian.

Harry sobbed into her chest, feeling the agony of this pseudo-mother's embrace and the joy it brought him at once.

"My life is yours, master. I will watch over you always, and protect you from all evil." Lily said soothingly.

Harry could only struggle away and snuggle deeper, wanting yet dreading her touch, her embrace, for it was both a dream and a reality. He didn't know which was which anymore.

This was the mark of madness.

"Sleep, master." Lily whispered.

Harry fell asleep, feeling the comfort of another's embrace as he slept for the first time in fifteen years.

The moon shined down on the Guardian as she watched over her charge, her master.

* * *

Thanks to dead feather, Black Padfoot, japanese-jew, moonfyre, Hunter101, Pleione, Lady of Masbolle, Quillian, Wren Truesong, Emma Barrows, FroBoy, azntgr01, DiamondPhoenix, SiriuslyInsane62442, totallystellar, and mashimaromadness for reviewing!

Q&A

Hunter101- You are correct. I can't answer that. Why are you ashamed about the ferret?

Lady of Masbolle- No Necromancy from me. Probably ever, and definitely not here.

Quillian- Perhaps, my friend, perhaps.

Wren Truesong- Don't worry. Soon the world will know he's alive. Very soon. (maniacal laughter)

DiamondPhoenix- Soon.

AN: Hn. Does 'Lily' seem a bit similar to any of you MTG players yet? Thanks for reading and please review!


	6. Time Moves Again

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. I do hope one day to be as good as J.K. is at writing, though.

AN: Sorry this took so long. The Time Moves Again thing is a parallel to Rurouni Kenshin.

* * *

Chapter 6 Time Moves Again

It had been two months since the Boy-Who-Lived had vanished. Hogwarts term had started, the first years were of a smaller number than ever before, except in the height of Voldemort's last reign of terror. The public and the student body were subdued, the smallest first year to Dumbledore himself feeling, somewhere deep down, that they were enjoying the last moments before the storm.

A very much subdued Ginny, Ron, and Hermione joined their fellow Gryffindors that year feeling the loss of their hero, their icon, their friend.

In his hiding place, somewhere far away from Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort waited for sign of the Boy-Who-Lived or movement in the Wizarding World. Meanwhile, his Death Eaters continued to grow in numbers, fear and lust for power swelling the ranks of the Dark Lord.

In London, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the Order of the Phoenix planned and plotted against the Dark Lord, though subdued without Harry.

It seemed the entire Wizarding World had drawn itself into a standstill, as if Time had frozen since the Boy-Who-Lived was lost.

Unbeknownst to the world, Harry Potter lived, on his island, tending and creating every day, his powers growing stronger and stronger, his artificial paradise growing.

And all the while the Guardian, the Angel, Lily, watched over her master.

And thus, Harry, for the first time in his life, lived without pressures and restraints, in true solitude. In peace.

But no one, especially not Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, can escape Destiny.

And so it was that this night, Time would begin to move again.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Severus Snape awakened to a vicious burning in his left arm.

The Dark Lord was calling his minions to prepare for his war.

And so Severus Snape ran from his room and took a specialized Portkey to Lord Voldemort's location, given to him at the last meeting.

With a tug on his navel, Severus found himself once again in the den of snakes. He hurried to the spot that he knew was waiting for him, and knelt onto the cold black stone.

In a few more moments that stretched on like millennia to the Potions Master, the remaining Death Eaters arrived, and knelt before their Dark Lord.

For endless moments, minutes, hours, eternities, the Dark Lord simply stood in front of them, hooded and silent, like a cloth stone statue. Severus felt his knees aching, but stayed still.

Finally, the Dark Lord spoke. "We have been waiting for a long time. Does this extra waiting pain you, my servants?" Lord Voldemort asked softly, his voice a soft rasp.

No one spoke. No one could predict the Dark Lord, after all.

"It is clear now that Potter is dead. Otherwise, the Gryffindor in him would have forced him to return." The Dark Lord said, and began stepping towards his Death Eaters, till he stood just in front of them.

"And so, we shall renew the work that we started so long ago. Bella, you will lead a diversionary assault on the location I spoke to you earlier." Lord Voldemort hissed, and Bellatrix Lestrange nodded, obviously eager. Severus cursed silently. The Dark Lord was wise to hide his plans, but this made this sudden call to an assault impossible to prepare for. "Now, I myself shall lead an assault on Hogsmeade at the same time. We will lure out those fools at Hogwarts. Undoubtedly, that fool Dumbledore will remain at his school, and he will come to me."

He turned his burning crimson gaze on all of the Death Eaters, and collectively, silently, they shuddered in unison.

"And then he will die."

* * *

On an island, hundreds of miles away, Harry James Potter awoke with his scar burning and the dream branded into the corridors of his mind.

Shuddering, he tried to shake the memory of that terrible creature, the one they called the Dark Lord, out of his mind, but it just kept coming. Fear and uncertainty crept into his chest, as well as a burning anger.

Wings flapped, and Harry turned to see the Angel Lily drop down next to him, and knelt by his side, resting her ivory blade on the soil that burned from her purity.

"Who has troubled you master? Speak the word, and they shall die." Lily whispered, her emerald eyes blazing with outrage and promises of swift and terrible retribution.

"I-I do not know for sure..." Harry mumbled softly, but now images flashed in his mind. A peaceful, quiet village with children and adults bustling around, feelings of happiness and curiosity worming their way with the images.

_It is called Hogsmeade, _Harry knew. _That-that monster will go there... he will kill those people. _Harry cringed at the thought of so many deaths and his anger rose. _NO! I will not let that happen!_

The monster flashed in his mind again, and Harry fought to know its name, fought the depths of his mind, the abyss where his memories once lay, to find it. Slowly, images, images of green light and another Lily, the true Lily.

_She died by his hand, _Harry knew. A man who looked nearly exactly like Harry, save for the eyes, flashed, standing next to the true Lily. _He was my father, _Harry realized._ He died by his hand too. _

A boy, who looked about Harry's age, flashed in his mind, walking with him in a dead night, in the graveyard that had once haunted Harry's nightmares.

_"Wands out, you reckon?" _

_"Kill the spare."_

_ "AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Inwardly, Harry screamed as the boy fell from the green light, the green light that took everything from him.

The name of the monster flashed at last, fiery and branded into the air by a young boy of Harry's age that seemed ethereal.

"Voldemort." Harry whispered in recognition.

Angel Lily stooped lower, and grasped her sword tightly. "Who, master? Who has done this?" His creation asked again in concern.

"His name is Voldemort." Harry whispered, and stood up. He turned his eyes to his creation, his warrior, his Guardian. "You will find him, and you will kill him."

"Where can I find this Voldemort, master?" Angel Lily asked, her emerald eyes burning with desire for the Dark Lord's blood.

Harry, on instinct, reached up and touched the angel's face, and placed the image of Hogsmeade in his mind. "You will go there," Harry found himself speaking, "And you will kill Voldemort."

"I can see the place in your mind, master." Lily, and yet not Lily, responded. "I will go and kill this Voldemort."

Harry felt concern for his creation stirring, and looked into Lily's eyes, emerald meeting emerald. "Be careful. He is a powerful foe, and not to be underestimated." Images of his parents and the boy flashed in his mind.

Angel Lily's eyes softened. "He killed my predecessor, the Other Lily."

Harry swallowed in his grief, old and yet new, and nodded. "I do not wish to lose Lily to him again."

"You will not master. I swear that to you." Angel Lily nodded solemnly, crossing her blade over her heart and repeated her oath.

Harry nodded again. "Very well then. Now go."

* * *

In his hidden fortress, the Dark Lord awaits, sleepless, for the battle to come...

In Hogwarts, Snape tells the rapidly assembled Order of the Phoenix and a concerned Dumbledore of the Dark Lord's plan, and a counterattack seems futile...

And on the island, the Angel known as Lily takes off from her master's side to find Voldemort, and kill him...

Time has begun to move once more, and Destiny has begun its relentless movement again.

* * *

Thanks to Emma Barrows, Pleione, moonfyre, Alan Quicksilver, Black Padfoot, Thanos Farek Said, arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, PinkyTheSnowman, japanese-jew, heyheyhey, , Harrie, Zeromaru: Chaos Mode, mashimaromadness, Silver Warrior, and Lady of Masbolle for reviewing!

Q&A

moonfyre-She's made to kind of creep you out. Now, as for what she is, she's not the real Lily, but a Guardian for Harry in the image of his mother. Psychologically, it all makes sense. (Harry's a momma's boy!)

Alan Quicksilver- Harry won't only be playing Ixidor. There are other players in that drama that Harry will become. As for a Phage character, I don't really have someone who will kill with a touch... but an anti-thesis to Lily... interesting thought, no?

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She- Actually she's more like Akroma. Now, as for Methran soldiers...

PinkyTheSnowman- Does Harry really need a mother? Is this Angel even supposed to be his mother? Food for thought...

japanese-jew- It's Akroma. Now, if that card can do that, who knows what this Angel can do...

Harrie- Well, if you figure it out, tell me.

mashimaromadness- True Paradise can't exist on Earth. Especially not when there are other things one must do. So what Harry's made isn't a paradise, not really, but a sanctuary.

Silver Warrior- Why do people say she's like a Serra Angel? It's not even a legend!

Lady of Masbolle- She's his guard, you know, like guards protect the king. MTG stands for Magic: The Gathering. Its a card game.

AN: Bit short, but it's an interlude kind of chapter. Thanks for reading and please review!


	7. The First Battle

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: I've made a decision. This will be a Harry/Ginny story, or at least I'll make every attempt to do make it one. (How did it happen? Well, re-reading it, I just said, " it, I'll make it an H/G story." Yes, my exact words one night) Sorry to those who are only reading this for the uniqueness or... whatever else you read this for.

* * *

Chapter 7 The First Battle 

Harry sat on a moss-covered rock he created, a makeshift chair for him to sit in. Comfortable but firm at the same time, he liked to sit on it and just think. Normally he would admire some creation of his or think about his lost memories, but today he pondered what would happen today. He could sense that Lily was close to Him, to the one called the Dark Lord, and he briefly cringed at the idea that his Guardian would fall to the Dark Lord. The Angel was fast with her wings, and tireless, and strong, with a blade capable of cutting through stone, but still, Harry feared for his Guardian.

Maybe he should have gifted her with weapons and armor, protection, he wondered to himself, and, curious to see if he could, he focused on a mental picture of a slender, feminine, golden armor that was twice as strong as steel. Immediately, he opened his eyes, and there it was.

"I should have considered all the options... I should have made allies for her... I should have..." Harry trailed off, shaking his head as he admired the craftsmanship of his newly created armor, the armor for his Guardian. It gleamed in the sunlight, bright and ethereal, as if it was merely liquid light.

Sighing, Harry realized there was nothing more he could do but wait. Looking around his island, his Paradise, he smiled again. A wonderful, living ecosystem all contained on a single island, with nothing but peace and prosperity. It was fitting that Harry named it Paradise.

But without the Guardian, Harry felt alone, naked, unprotected, but at the same time, relieved. His pseudo-mother/guardian angel left him with a small bit of discomfort for some strange reason. He wasn't sure why... it could have been the fact that he was replacing his mother with a creation fanatically loyal to him, it could have been the idea of spending any time with something he created from nothing...

Everything here was his creation... everything here sprang from his mind, from his soul. Everything here was a reflection of what he desired. The world bent itself backwards to accommodate him. Harry could do anything, craft creatures so beautiful and wondrous that words would tarnish their beauty, spawn unholy demons that could kill without remorse. And everything he created was his responsibility. Not because of duty... but because he wanted to care for them. They were like his children, every plant, every animal, the water, the streams, the land was all his.

His potential power was limitless... all he need do was tap into it, want it, will it, and his will be done on Earth. Anything at all... to preserve life, to destroy life, to make life... it was all within his power.

Harry sighed again. The occupation of a Creator was true insanity... infinite power, infinite responsibility, and Harry also had mortal fallacy and weaknesses to go along with it.

The combination, he knew, was sure to destroy him soon enough, either his sanity or his very soul.

A new possibility, unbidden, unwanted, burst forth from his slowly slipping mind. He could transcend that mortality. He could perfect himself with his powers... he could cast off this puny mortal shell... he could ascend... transcend his mortality... and be as if he were a god. He could be a king, no longer the downtrodden, no longer feeling fear or hurt or pain or suffering that mortals feel, no longer have the doom that was death that befalls all mortals hanging over him, and be the ruler of all things, be the Creator, the absolute power in the world, the Judge, Jury, Executioner, the one with true power... he could be a god.

The possibility both frightened and intrigued him terribly... and a deep yearning for such transcendence emerged, a yearning for complete power and domination... where his creations would forever be untouched by the world... and he felt that he may not be able to resist the call of immortality, of perfection, of godhood, for long.

Once more, Harry sighed.

* * *

Remus Lupin sighed slowly, downing some hot tea, and then promptly sprayed it all over the table he was sitting at. Nearby, Nymphadora Tonks laughed hysterically, tears falling from her tired eyes as she supped her tea gracefully, surprisingly enough. 

"Oh ha bloody ha." Remus drawled sarcastically, wiping his mouth.

Tonks grinned at the older man, despite how tired they both were. Neither had slept too well, both thinking of the battle ahead, and the tea they were drinking was supposed to help keep them awake. "I should have warned you... this is Moody's brew. Absolutely no sugar. Says it keeps Aurors awake on long nights," Tonks explained, pouring Remus some more of the tea.

"Disgusting." Remus remarked, but drank it down anyway. Unsurprisingly, it jolted him awake with its bitter taste and intense heat.

The two became quiet again, waiting for the show to begin. Dumbledore asked them to stay in the Three Broomsticks to help keep civilians out of danger, while the other members of the Order were scattered around Hogsmeade, ready to ambush Voldemort's forces and fight a guerilla war in the village.

The Auror watched as the werewolf began losing himself in depressing thoughts of a certain green-eyed boy that was now dead most likely, and considered the pros and cons of speaking. Eventually, she decided that Remus, that the Order could not afford the former professor to be brooding on the morn of a battle.

As Tonks opened her mouth to break the silence, something else beat her to it. More specifically, a terrified shriek of innocents about to be slaughtered.

And then a second sound followed, a high pitched, cold, dark laugh that sounded like the Devil himself, and then the words of the Killing Curse.

Remus and Tonks bolted from the room at high speed, and every step they took was echoed by a new sound. First the silence following Death, then a symphony of panic and disordered screams, and then more laughter and Cruciatus, Killing, and other manners of curses, and then a new chorus of screams, a chorus of pained and tortured ones, and then the cycle began again.

Every scream and silence cut into both Order members souls as they ran faster and harder, desperate to stop any more voices from joining the chorus of silenced souls. After an eternity, they reached the end of the stairs, and right as their feet touched the bottom stair, the door exploded inward, smashing into a young woman and crushing her against the wall.

But neither the werewolf nor the Auror could help, as they were hurling various spells through the door, trying to hold back the assault that was happening far too fast to stop. Crabbe Senior was the first down, blasted right outside and crushing Goyle Senior and Avery underneath him.

Remus suddenly noticed that there were more spells, different spells than the ones he and Tonks were hurling at the door. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw the youngest Weasley give him a determined thumbs up, crouching behind a table with her brother and Hermione.

"Tonks? I thought Dumbledore cancelled the Hogsmeade trip!" Remus gritted out in the small lull between the assault, pointing at the students.

The Auror's head turned in the direction Remus pointed at, and her eyes widened and her mouth went into a circle of surprise. "I should have known," She muttered, shaking her head. "Let's hope Molly doesn't find out."

Remus agreed silently, but before anything else could be said, Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, firing off a Razor Wind Hex that sliced a deep wound into the wall, and narrowly missed the werewolf, who rolled aside. Unfortunately, Tonks wasn't so quick, and took a hard slash across her side, an incision finer than any blade could manage. She fell to floor, bleeding profusely across the wooden floor, and would pass out, maybe even die of blood loss soon if Remus didn't help.

But Remus had his own problems. The werewolf's eyes widened in horror, as Lucius smirked triumphantly, both knowing that Remus would never be able to raise his wand to do anything before the elder Malfoy struck again. As the words of death formed on the Death Eaters mouth, he was suddenly and violently hurled backwards. Shocked and stupefied, Remus turned to see that Tonks had raised her wand from her position on the floor.

The Auror had managed to fire off a Force Spell that crushed Malfoy's chest against its force and sent him into a wall, before she dropped her wand and gasped in pain. She swore under her breath as the werewolf rushed over to help her, collapsing into the floor just as Remus reached her.

"Shallow... no internal organs thank Merlin..." Tonks assessed in a pained whisper, part of her training as an Auror. Quickly, Remus healed the wound as best he could, but Tonks had already lost a lot of blood, and was all but out of the battle.

"Stay still. You're not moving." Remus ordered sternly, and then glanced at Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, who had moved to the Auror's side. "You three," He motioned, "Are in big trouble. But right now, I need you three to stay here and keep Tonks safe. Got it?" He asked.

Ron and Hermione nodded, but Ginny asked, "You're not going out there, are you? You're outnumbered at least ten to one!"

Remus shook his head. "The other Order members are here. I've got to help them. Stay here." He ordered, and then dashed outside, where the battle was reaching a turning point.

* * *

Lord Voldemort laughed as he watched an elderly witch scramble, running in a terrified lope away from the Dark Lord, before his Killing Curse struck her down. For the first time in years, the Dark Lord felt alive again. He was where he truly belonged, purging the Wizarding World, his power unchallenged and unchecked, just like the days before the Boy-Who-Lived and his first defeat. 

Eventually, Dolohov, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Macnair had herded them into a kneeling, disarrayed heap in front of their master, who smiled viciously.

"Where is your hero now!" The Dark Lord asked the terrified masses, sheep struggling to escape the wolf. "Where is he!"

No one dared answer the red eyed devil. No one, save one brave soul. An elderly man, who ran a small curio shop and had seen a young man with green eyes wander his store, wide eyed and curious many a time. "He will be here!" The man answered, one of the few who still believed that the Boy-Who-Lived, who had been deemed lost and dead a month ago, was still alive somewhere.

"CRUCIO!" Lord Voldemort hissed, laughing. "Ha, you haven't heard the news old man. Harry Potter is dead, at my hands. He is dead!" The old man screamed and convulsed, but was suddenly freed from the pain when a new voice spoke.

"Enough Tom." Headmaster Albus Dumbledore thundered, his voice as soft as a whisper yet louder than an eruption. Next to him, Alastor Moody and Kingsley stepped, their wands trained on the Death Eaters, leaving their leader to deal with Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord turned, and all four of his Death Eaters trained their wands on the elderly Headmaster, who brimmed with power and authority. They all flinched, and were relieved when their master motioned for them to take on Mad-Eye and Kingsley, so he could deal with the only one he ever feared.

As the Death Eaters and Order members began their fight, watching their respective leaders out of the corner of their eyes as their battle commenced. Moody ducked a Razor Wind Hex and fired off a Blasting Curse, while Kingsley covered his back with a Shield Charm, blocking a Cutting Curse and a Force Spell before it faded.

"I think we're in trouble, old man!" Kingsley gritted out, narrowly avoiding getting sliced by another Cutting Curse.

"This is nothing laddie!" Moody responded, and with a sweep of his wand, sent Dolohov and Macnair into a wall with a Concussion Wave Spell.

"Not bad, for an old man." Kingsley commented, before he used an Incapacitation Spell to blast Rabastan into a wall. Unfortunately, the Lestrange brother had fired off a Blasting Curse, which sent the Auror straight into a wall.

Mad-Eye swore as Dolohov staggered up, while Macnair lay unconscious, and Rodolphus Lestrange circled to flank him. Gritting his teeth, the retired Auror muttered, "I'm too old for this," before he plunged back into battle.

"It ends here old man. You cannot defeat me." Lord Voldemort whispered, but his voice was carried by the winds and his one-time Headmaster heard him clearly. "Potter is dead. And with him, that foolish prophecy is gone. All that is left is a weak old man and his band of fools."

"Perhaps Tom. But another will rise. One day Tom, you will die." Dumbledore replied, and raised his wand.

"But not today." The Dark Lord responded, and then lashed out with a Scourging Curse, which created a long leather whip with a small blade at the end from the tip of his wand.

The Headmaster blocked with a cry of "Scutum!", and a bright blue orb surrounded the old man, blocking the attack. The Protection Spell warbled under the hit, and soon, multiple strikes from Voldemort's conjured whip were causing the shield to flicker.

Canceling the shield, Dumbledore sidestepped the next whip strike, and cried out, "Flamen!" The Force Spell smashed into Voldemort's arm, knocking the Dark Lord back. With a snarl, Lord Voldemort dispelled the Scourging Curse from his wand and fired a Killing Curse.

Albus Dumbledore spun around, dodging the Killing Curse and firing of a Cutting Curse, which the Dark Lord blocked with a Shield Charm, and responded with a powerful Demolition Spell that shattered Dumbledore's hastily conjured Protection Spell and knocked him into the wall of Honeydukes.

As a chorus of horrified gasps emerged, and Lord Voldemort bit back a triumphant smirk as he fired off another Demolition Spell that smashed the old man through the wall, most likely shattering several bones in his body as the Headmaster collapsed inside the candy shop.

Remus Lupin, who had arrived at the fight as Dumbledore was knocked down, stopped and gazed on in disbelief and horror. Death Eater and Order member when silent as they watched the final hour of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"And so ends the so called greatest sorcerer of all time," The Dark Lord whispered. "And now old man, I've won." Turning towards the shocked crowd, he began laughing his high, cold laugh that sounded like the laughter of the Devil himself. "You see!" He declared, "I cannot be beaten! You can destroy my body, disperse my followers, strip me of my power, but I will always return, greater and more terrible than ever before! I am eternal!" He looked into the frightened faces of the crowd and knew that to keep them alive as witnesses would be a great asset. "No one defies me and lives. No one, not the Boy-Who-Lived, not Albus Dumbledore, can defy me and live.

"Because I am Lord Voldemort. And I cannot be beaten."

"One day Tom... one day you will be beaten. And may God help you when everything you've done comes back to haunt you..." Albus Dumbledore whispered, coughing up blood.

The Dark Lord turned and sneered at the Headmaster. "And who is foolish enough to do so? I have proven that I am invincible, that no one escapes the infinite arm of my retribution."

"There will always be someone Tom." the Headmaster responded weakly.

"Enough talk old man! You die here!" Lord Voldemort shouted angrily, enraged at the defiance of this old, dying man, and pointed his wand at him. "Avada-" He spoke, but that was all he managed.

It was as if the voice of the Almighty God roaring from Heaven, the angered shouts of the Furies of Greek lore, the chorus of angry souls screaming for the death of Tom Marvolo Riddle had spoken all at once in one symphony of divine retribution. But to a few people in the crowd, it sounded like someone else... someone who had been dead for fifteen years, who had been responsible for Voldemort's first defeat, who had defied him three times, who had mothered the Dark Lord's greatest foe.

"VOLDEMORT! I HAVE COME! TODAY YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR SINS, AND YOU WILL DIE!"

* * *

Thanks to Quillian, That Kid Crying In the Corner, Zeromaru: Chaos Mode, Black Padfoot, Khadon, Dr Gero, Illucia, PinkyTheSnowman, Shadowed Rains, Pleione, Lady of Masbolle, FroBoy, Paul, arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, Emma Barrows, Jolly Rancher, Cattatra, moonfyre, Hunter101, PbookR, GinnyHarryP, TheConfused?, Silver Warrior, Wren Truesong, mashimaromadness, Talix, and Nimbirosa for reviewing! 

Q&A

Quillian- Definitely not, as you can see.

That Kid Crying In the Corner- See, if Harry's powers were like a god's, with the ability to do anything, that'd just be too easy. No, his powers have to be explained.

Zeromaru: Chaos Mode- Perhaps I'll do something even better.

Khadon- You're right. Nothing for Harry, especially when I'm at the helm, is going to be that simple. As for what Lily does... you'll just have to see, won't you.

Dr Gero- A bit over two months.

Illucia- That's what I was going for. This kind of story has never been dreamed of before (I hope)... at least on

Shadowed Rains- Its okay... just remember to review now, okay? (Grin)

Lady of Masbolle- Sure you can make it your MSN name. James may get a chance to get a simulacrum of himself... but Lily will be the major player. Harry's power... if I told you what it does, it would spoil a few things. Just keep reading, and everything will become clear... I hope.

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She- No Metheran... but Harry's got his own brand of super soldiers... (think Kamahl's army. And if you haven't read the Onslaught cycle, then you'll be totally lost on the reference)

Cattatra- Yeah, these chapters are short. This one could have been longer... but I love a good cliffhanger. (At least when I'm not the one hanging off of the cliff)

moonfyre- Ah... you think Harry's all powerful... and he is... in a way. But not in the way that other stories might have him, with all powerful _wizarding _abilities. Harry can't demolish mountains or anything like that... but he can do many other things. Lily really isn't interested in helping anyone who isn't Harry, and yes, soon everyone will know Harry isn't dead. Will Harry fight Voldemort? Maybe... same thing for his sanity. And as for his creations... that's a main part of the plot, or at least a question Harry will have to wrestle with... you should wrestle with it too.

GinnyHarryP- Thanks on both counts.

Silver Warrior- You raise a good point. But the antithesis to Lily will probably be Voldemort. I haven't done much with that guy in any fic besides Shattered Reality (yes, I know, shameless plugging)

Wren Truesong- Lily is kind of like a religious fanatic, so yes, she is a bit scarier than an insane Harry. And of course she can't kill Tom... but who says she can't maim him?

Nimbirosa- You're right about the Q&A being long... I don't know why.The chapters here are just so stubborn!And as for your review on Dreams, I'm just naturally that insane.(I wonder what I'd be like if I was high)Oh, and a quick correction on my e-mail. There's an underscore between yami and chaos. My bad. And my AIM name is AOL, so it doesn't have an address (I think).

AN: Sorry this took so long... so swamped by schoolwork and stumped on ideas for this. And yes, I know that was a totally lame chapter title. Thanks for reading and please review!


	8. Of Angels and Devils

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: If Voldemort seems a bit weird... I thought he was pretty freaked out in GoF as it was, when all his victims came back to haunt him, so that's what I'm basing his actions on right now. Some of you were displeased about my H/G decision, but I promise you, it won't be too bad, and I won't be making it so that they'll just jump into each other arms, or Ginny into some Mary Sue (shudder).

* * *

Chapter 8 Of Angels and Devils

. Harry watched as a giant squirrel bounded through the bows, and gave a wincing smile as a large purple tounge lashed around it, and then with a wet slurp, the furry mammal was gobbled up by a large lizard with big amber eyes. Shaking his head, he continued watching the sky, watching the sun that bathed him in its glorious light, and felt peace for a moment.

And then something within his skull seared and burned and ached and tore and he fell to the floor, clutching the fore of his head tightly, giving low, painful moans of agony.

In his forehead, Harry felt a feeling that was not his own... fear. The feeling oozed fear, a fear of impossibility, a fear of something that should not be.

And the Creator smiled through the pain. Lily had come.

* * *

_"VOLDEMORT! I HAVE COME! TODAY YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR SINS, AND YOU WILL DIE!"_

Remus J. Lupin had seen many seemingly impossible things happen in his lifetime. The betrayal of Wormtail, the downfall of the Lord Voldemort, the death of the Potters, the escape from Azakaban and innocence of Sirius Black, Harry saving Peter's life, and so much more. But nothing, absolutely not one of these intense and incredible and incredulous experiences topped this.

Lily Potter was alive... and an angel. Hovering just above the ground, her massive golden brown eagle wings beat lazily, steadily, ruffling her snow white robes and she held a massive ivory sword in one hand, with a fiery red halo on her head and blazing green eyes. She glanced at no one but Lord Voldemort, and had a look and a desire to kill in her eyes. It was clear that she could have struck the Dark Lord down where he stood unaware before, but this was a creature who would only fight head on, not resorting to deceit and trickery. She was far too pure for that.

Silently, one religious wizard whispered, "God has sent us an angel."

_An avenging one_, Remus thought as he watched Voldemort gape at the sword wielding angel that landed in front of him.

"It's not possible..." the very shaken, very perturbed Dark Lord whispered fearfully, "You're dead! I killed you!" With some satisfaction, Remus noted that the formerly gloating Lord Voldemort was now on the verge of hysterics.

"I am not Lily Potter... but I am here to avenge her, and my Master." The angel of vengeance replied tonelessly. "I will bring your head back to Him, and let the rest of your body rot for the crows." A deadly glint was in her emerald eyes, and she raised her ivory, gold trimmed blade that gleamed as if it was made of pure light.

"You're not real! Avada Kedavra!" Lord Voldemort screeched, and the green light of the Killing Curse slashed through the air, accompanied by a chorus of gasps as Lily took off into the air again, fast and furious now.

The battle of Angels and Devils was on.

* * *

Ginny Weasley heard several astonished shouts and horrified screams and shrieks mixing into one symphony of combat, and something in her gut told her that something was different. Some new power had entered the equation.

The redhead desperately hoped it was for the Light side, seeing as how just before she had heard the triumphant, if indistinct shouts of Him.

She shuddered, remembering the chills she had of hearing that devil's, the devil that was Tom Riddle, voice. The Chamber of Secrets was both another lifetime and just yesterday, a place where Ginny Weasley both died and was born again. It broke her, and forced her too make herself whole again, forge a new Ginny in the fires of the old.

It took her so long... and what helped her had been Harry.

It hurt still to think about him... to think that her old crush, that constant ache in her heart, was now unburied, and dead. They had held a massive funeral for him... everyone was there, but the sight of that empty coffin tore at Ginny in a way that she had never felt before.

Shaking her head from her thoughts, she bit her lip thoughtfully. Curiosity was now burning in her, and she desperately needed to know if her parents were all right. But on the other hand... she glanced at Tonks, who was sitting in one chair, panting slightly, a bit pale still, weak from blood loss. Remus had told her to stay here, and Ginny knew that she was already in trouble as it was.

"Go." Tonks gritted out, as if reading the redheads thoughts.

"What?" Ginny, Hermione, and Ron chorused confusedly.

"Go on you three. No sense in all of us staying here." The Auror said, motioning to the petite redhead.

"What about you?" Hermione commented worriedly, looking at the amount of blood that was still decorating the floor.

Tonks shook her head. "I'll be fine. Go."

The three of them shot the Auror grateful looks, and crept off into the battlefield, where an astonishing battle was taking place.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort, had never been afraid of many things. In his youth, his fear had been Albus Dumbledore. He feared Death, true, which is why he sought immorality. But the last time fear of such magnitude was two years ago, in the graveyard of his resurrection, where he faced the ghosts, the shades of his victims.

Their faces still haunted him, taunting him to join them in the eternal embrace of Death.

And now one had come to bring him into that eternal embrace.

"Avada Kedavra!" He screamed again, but the angel flew over it, sword raised to strike the Dark Lord down.

"Die!" Lily roared, and struck down with her ivory blade. Voldemort barely managed to create a shimmering silver shield to block it, which was nearly cleaved in half from the force of the blow.

Staggering backwards, the Dark Lord found himself in a place where he had never been before.

Last place. The one on the defensive, the one who was losing the battle.

It was not a comfortable place, and the irrational fears plaguing the Lord Voldemort dissipated in the face of the return of cold Slytherin calculation. "What are you?" The Heir of Slytherin asked loudly, sending a powerful black colored curse towards the avenging angel.

Lily blocked the curse with her blade and responded furiously, "Your executioner!"

Voldemort leapt aside as the ivory blade cleaved the air where he once stood, and fired off a powerful spell, the Bone Breaker curse. The sick dark red light leapt from his wand and smashed into the Guardian, sending the angel crashing into the ground. Not wanting to get close to the creature, Lord Voldemort fired off a Killing Curse, giving off a laugh of triumph.

But the timely flight of the angel cut his laughter short, and the furious Lily came at him again, slashing furiously, not slowed by the injuries she must have taken.

The Dark Lord was taken aback by the recovery and assault of the avenging angel, and stumbled backwards, his hastily created magical shield battered away easily. Giving a low growl of triumph, the angel known as Lily sent her blade crashing down towards Lord Voldemort's head.

By some stroke of unholy luck, the Dark Lord fell backwards, his left arm raised to shield himself.

In a single agonizing scream and the in the whistle of steel and the rain of blood, the crowd found themselves witnessing the most astonishing sight yet.

Remus' eyes grew wide as he stepped out of the broken debris of the walls of Honeydukes, supporting a much more stabilized, but even more shocked Albus Dumbledore.

Up the street, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley stopped dead, gazing at the sight before them in utter disbelief.

On the ground, rolling in utter agony, screaming as though the fires of Hell were burning his soul, Lord Voldemort screamed, clutching the bleeding stump of his left arm. Above him, the victor of this fight, the angel Lily raised her ivory blade to end the Dark Lord.

"And now it ends." The Guardian whispered, blade raised and poised to strike.

Just then, the self-preservation instinct of the Dark Lord kicked in, and he raised his wand through the fog of pain, pointing it at the angel at point-blank range. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

* * *

Around them, a chorus of shocked gasps was heard, as well as an agonized cry of protest from one Remus J. Lupin as the unholy green light erupted from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and slashed through the air... and missed.

Lily had cocked her head to the side, the curse just barely missing her cheek by inches, as she flew away from the Dark Lord like a startled bird, blade raised, on the defensive.

And then the tide changed, as Augustus Rookwood, with Jugson and Muliciber in tow, ran towards their fallen Lord, sending various curses towards the angel, who flew hastily to avoid being struck down.

"Kill her!" Voldemort snarled, before activating a Portkey, having set up Anti-Apparation wards at the beginning of the battle.

Lily gave a loud cry of anger and rage at her quarry's escape, which turned into screams of pain when Rookwood and the other Death Eaters began cursing her, hitting her first with Cruciatus Curses to make sure she stayed on the ground.

"Keep her down," Rookwood nodded to Jugson, and then raised his wand. "Avada-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Remus Lupin roared, sending Rookwood and his wand flying in opposite directions.

Lily quickly took flight as Mulicber and Jugson broke off to confront Remus, who found himself outnumbered and outgunned. "Kill the woman first fools!" Rookwood roared, grabbing his wand and pointing it at the retreating angel, which was already a good distance from the battle, but not yet out of range.

The Angel took two Cutting Curses that slashed deep in her flesh as well as another Bone Breaker Curse from Rookwood before she vanished from sight.

Remus narrowly avoided a Bone Breaker Curse directed at him, and answered it with a cry of "Relashio!" The sparks burnt Jugson's robes and quickly set them on fire, which the Death Eater put out quickly, avoiding the Stunner the werewolf sent his way.

Gritting his teeth, the Order member found himself backed against the wall, on the defensive as all three Death Eaters concentrated their fire on the werewolf, when suddenly a flash of blue light erupted next to Remus, and sent Jugson flying ten meters away.

Eyes widening in horror, Rookwood activated his Portkey and disappeared. Before Muliciber could do the same, he was disarmed, and his Portkey, a small piece of paper, rolled away from him. Desperate, the Death Eater ran from the enemy.

A rejuvenated Albus Dumbledore fired off a Stunner which nailed the retreating Mulicber in between the shoulder blades, sending him crashing into the ground.

The other members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived on the scene along with Ginny, Hermione, and Ron, all heartened by the flight of the Dark Lord and Dumbledore's recovery.

Panting slightly, Moody ran over to Dumbledore first. "The other Death Eaters retreated, bunch of stinking coward..." Mad-Eye grumbled.

Albus smiled, a small, unreadable smile. "Another day, old friend. Another day."

"Damn right," Remus commented, "What the hell was that?"

Silence on all sides answered him.

"Then I guess we had better find out." The werewolf muttered.

* * *

Thanks to Nimbirosa, Zeromaru Chaos Mode, Khadon, theM, Pleione, Quillian, Bujiana, moonlightwitch, nogoalielikeme, blah29, arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, angelkitty77, japanese-jew, Horseyfly91, Crysania Fay, mennion, FroBoy, Flight of the Wild, Cattatra, mashimaromadness, Silver Warrior, Fay-the-elven-princess, Surarrin, Illucia, and PinkyTheSnowman for reviewing!

QA

Khadon- Well... when I stated he had godlike powers, or was like a god, I may have worded that wrong. I toyed with just making this god!Harry, but then I could be following a path others have traveled. So I suppose an honest answer might be good to clear things up for everyone. Harry has the power of Creation. No more, no less. He can create a gigantic burrito, that doesn't mean he could eat it all in one sitting. Its beyond him to obliterate a mountain, but he could easily create a giant monster that could do so. He can make a sword, but he can't use it. It's definitely not a weak power though, since he could easily create a massive army (hint) to help him out or something like that. But he can create much more than physical objects too (another hint). I hope I cleared everything up.

theM- Oh yeah.

Pleione- Nope.

Quillian- Thanks. The above should answer the rest of your questions.

blah29- Please read above explanation to Khadon concerning Harry's powers.

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She- I'm kind of divided. I liked how epic the Invasion cycle felt (everyone's dying, crazy stuff happening everywhere), but I liked the humor and more in depth characterizations of Onslaught cycle.

japanese-jew- I don't get what's so surprising. I did say that Lily was going after Voldemort in chapter six.

Horseyfly91- Uh... same thing as above.

Crysania Fay- Going to keep H/Gness minimal, and it won't appear for a while. And please, no shooting Ginny's. As for the whole island thing, that's a question that's been on everyone's minds. All I can say is I crack a very scary smile when I think about what will happen.

Cattatra- Wow, you really love Angel!Lily. Anyways, who says Harry's going to be "coming" back to civilization? The summary should be giving you some hints...

mashimaromadness- Since its not possible for Harry to be a mother (rolls eyes at m-preg stories in disgust. Sorry, even my tolerance has a bit of a limit... and that and D/G meets it.), it should be fairly obvious who it was in the last chapter.

Silver Warrior- And I'm waiting for my muse to help me write it. It's always easy to write the boss battle, it's everything else that's the problem.

Illucia- Truly sorry you feel that way. Well, ignore it, or just bear it. It's not going to be that bad. Who knows, you may just end up liking it, or at least tolerating it. I'm glad that you're going to stick around though, despite that fact.

PinkyTheSnowman- I was tempted to leave you with another cliffhanger... but you guys have been through enough for now. I'm trying to work on Shattered Reality, but its so stubborn.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A review would be a nice thank you (wink wink nudge nudge).


	9. Fiery Swords and Cherubim

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: There are a number of creatures from Magic: The Gathering mentioned or described in this chapter and onward. All those familiar with the game, see if you can spot them!

* * *

Chapter 9 Fiery Swords and Cherubim 

Harry stood at the edge of his Paradise, glancing worriedly at the sun for a moment, scanning the abyss-like horizon for the Guardian. Lily was injured and returning. Somehow, he knew. He felt her pain, her raw agony as if something in his mind was being torn apart and broken and battered.

As he had lain there over three days ago, clutching his cranium in brutal Purgatory, he discovered a price to pay for his power of Creation. When he crafted something, it had to come from somewhere... and Harry's creations came from his very psyche. The destruction of his creations was destroying his mind.

Sweeping his emerald orbs over his island, he wondered briefly if the destruction of Paradise, of everything he had Created... if that would destroy his mind completely.

Pushing the morbid thoughts aside, he continued watching, and waiting. Idly, he plucked a small, heart-shaped purple fruit from a low branch and bit into it, feeling the meaty, juicy, sweet taste flooding his senses, and wondering if all of it was within his mind, if the tastes, textures, if all of it was just in his imagination.

Such thoughts were not rare for Harry, and on many occasions, his perceptions blurred and he feared he was going insane... and other times that he was already.

A new shape in the horizon broke Harry's reveries. A single, tiny dot too far to see, but in an instant, he knew that the Guardian had returned. His stomach quailed at the thought of injury to his pseudo-mother, but he cringed at the thought of the return of that uncomfortable confusion, that feeling of ethereal illusions that came with spending time with her.

Tossing aside the half-eaten fruit that bounced carelessly away, he strode forward to greet Lily, but with each dreading and eager step, he felt as though he were walking away from reality, and into a dream.

* * *

Lily was a mess, Harry noticed with a wince. One wing had a vicious slash across it, her side was bleeding profusely, and her left arm was broken in a particularly gruesome fashion. Her once pure snow-white robes were dirtied with blood and dirt; her ivory sword lay limp in her right arm, which dangled tiredly. From the look of her right shoulder, and from Harry's own... intuition, about his Guardian, he deciphered that it was also broken. Her once strong golden brown eagle wings were now flapping tiredly, lagging after each stroke that heaved with effort after flying wounded for over three days straight. 

Finally, she landed, or rather, crashed into the soft soil of Paradise, sending up small showers of dirt around Harry as she lay prostrate and weary at the feet of her Creator. Her blade slipped out of her numb hands and fell and bit into the soil as she panted with effort.

"I... I have failed you... Please absolve me of my sin of failure Master." Lily beseeched wretchedly, weeping bitter tears of disappointment, failure, and defeat, on her knees, clutching Harry's feet for dear life. "I could not destroy your enemy..."

Sighing, Harry knelt and pulled the Guardian's face up with one finger on her chin, looking into her eyes. "You have not failed me. There is nothing to forgive."

Lily shook her head, sending tears splashing like rain to the ground. "I failed. I could not destroy Voldemort."

Something spiked in Harry's mind. A phrase... _And either must die at the hand of the other... _

Shaking himself mentally, the Creator attempted again. "It was my fault. I should have anticipated that there would be more enemies. You are my Guardian, but you are but one warrior. The blame lies with me." Harry exhaled. "I should not have sent you alone."

But the Guardian seemed inconsolable. "I failed you... and now I can no longer protect you. I am broken." Lily wept once more, falling to Harry's feet in grief.

Harry chuckled, a small, low chuckle of amusement and intoxication of power. "Do you not think that I can restore you?" He asked, and immediately, the angel's head shot up, shaking violently.

"No! I would never doubt your power Master!" Lily nearly cried out, affronted and horrified.

"Then do not despair." Harry closed his eyes, and imagined the Guardian, healthy, strong, and, gathering the memory of the armor he had crafted, he imagined her wearing that golden armor, strengthening both angel and armor against curses and attacks.

Opening his emerald eyes, he smiled. Lily stood now, her wounds healed and her body restored, her stained robes replaced with pure golden armor, her wings flapping strong and healthy. Panting slightly with effort, he watched as the angel laughed, happy with her restoration as she grabbed her blade.

But now a new thought was already working within the Creator's mind. Enemies would come to strike against Paradise... and the Guardian would not be enough. The destruction of this island would destroy him; destroy his Eden, his peace, his everything. That was unacceptable.

Paradise required more defenses. An army would be rallied now. He would have to spawn an army of abominations, of terrors, of monsters, of all the dark things that crept within the Creator's mind and soul. His Paradise would now have to house demons, and the isolation of it would grow extensively. But these things had to be done to protect such perfection. Harry sighed, knowing that his task would not be an easy one on his mind or his body.

* * *

Within Hell, or at least an equivalent of it, the Devil raged and seethed and burned with hatred. His missing limb plagued his thoughts, and his fury only grew, his hunger for death augmented. His humiliation only fueled his ire. To be defeated, to be utterly routed! The mere idea made him scream furiously, cursing the walls of his hidden fortress. 

The fortress itself was one of several hideouts he had bought and renovated in the First War, and this was one that had never been compromised. It could hold hundreds of the demon's servants, could hold almost as many prisoners as Azkaban with its dungeons, and had enough space to train new recruits for the growing army of Death Eaters. With it, the Dark Lord could plan out his campaigns, and wage a war of Darkness.

But now all his thoughts were bent on the angel, that apparition that had fought him and won. The memory of his loss burned like the lost limb's wound. He had already vowed in his pain and fury that he would find that creature and hunt her down, no matter where she ran.

Servants scurried about, desperate not to see their Lord of Darkness. Even Bellatrix, who had done substantial damage to the Ministry and its Aurors in her assault, dared not come near the furious red-eyed devil.

The furious devil paced furiously, and a single, fearful knock reverberated about his chamber. "Enter." He hissed furiously, knowing that there was only one person who would even dare to knock at this time.

The Death Eater entered slowly, holding a long, medium width box carefully. "It is done, my Lord." His servant rasped with a voice that was exhausted and weary, not daring to speak any louder.

The Devil, the Dark Lord smiled at long last as he took the box and opened it, revealing the artifact inside. "Excellent..." He hissed softly, admiring the craftsmanship and the power he could feel emanating from the artifact. Glancing dangerously at the Death Eater, he asked in a deadly hiss, "It is perfected?"

The servant of Darkness gulped nervously, blinking away his exhaustion. "Ye-yes, my Lord. As you requested."

"Then leave." That was all the Death Eater needed, and he scurried away from his dark master.

The Dark Lord smiled wider. Although he had been wounded and defeated, he would again show the world why he was so feared. Why, despite the fact that he had been at the very edge of Death before, he had returned from the Stygian abyss.

Lord Voldemort would show the world that the Darkness could never be beaten back for long.

* * *

As the Guardian flew over him, obviously doing her instinctual duty to protect Harry, the Creator decided to stall, to wait to create living warriors... nay, monsters. Instead, he would first bend Nature to his will, and create his own natural defenses. 

Around the island there was nothing but welcoming open water, and the mental picture laid firmly within his mind as he began his work. Slowly, he added spires of black rock over a mile high to the mental picture, spires that surrounded the island in a single range of solid rock and went all the way down to the bottom of the sea, an insurmountable wall with only one opening that was protected by several jagged protrusions of obsidian. He knew that he would add creatures to the area to help defend the opening, but for now, this would do.

Next, the water slowly began swirling in his mind, swirling outside the spires of black rock, and the wind and rain and clouds began to become violent, and the Creator summoned feelings of anger to aid their creation. Violent winds began to grow around the island, outside the black rock, always pushing unwelcome visitors farther away with only a few small, randomized areas in which the wind broke. The water became dangerous and unfriendly, but within the cove he created, the water and sun and wind remained calm.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled grimly as everything he imagined became reality. The first defense had been set.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, silently praying to whatever higher power would listen to calm the veritable storm of voices that chorused, either inquiring on his health, the appearance of the winged Lily, or just being indistinct and yelling for people to be quiet so that they could talk. 

"Quiet." The word spilled from his mouth, harsh as a desert wind and stronger than tempered steel, laced with his power. Immediately, the room quieted, as if they were all still children being chided by their Headmaster.

"I do not know what happened, but I believe it is in our best interests to find and contact this..." Albus struggled to find the words, "pseudo-Lily."

"She mentioned a master of sorts... perhaps someone else is pulling her strings?" Remus suggested, teeth bared fiercely at the thought of anyone using the image of Lily Potter as a puppet.

For a moment, Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes went out and widened, but then the look was gone, replaced with an immovable look of calm. But gears were now working within the octogenarian's mind, gears that were placing the pieces of a puzzle together.

A single idea, an impossible one, but one that fit almost every mystery within Albus Dumbledore's mind perfectly, solving them. _Is it possible..._

"I watched her with my eye," Mad-Eye Moody added, and everyone's eyes instinctively glanced at the rotating sapphire orb in his eye socket, "She was headed out west. My guess is that's where she came from." Slowly, his hand went into his robes, and produced a single vial with ruby liquid in it.

"And I also found this." Moody growled. "Its that _thing's _blood. We can use that to find her, or at least figure out if she's the real Lily Potter."

"She's not." Remus said flatly.

Before an argument could rise, Dumbledore cut in. "Severus," He asked, glancing at the dour Potions Master, "Analyze this blood sample. See if you can determine anything. Let me know if anything... unusual comes up." Turning towards the rest of the group, he said wearily, "Dismissed. I'll gather you all again soon."

* * *

Harry panted wearily as he lay spread-eagled on the soft black earth, feeling sweat fall off in droves. He had never attempted such mass creation before, but it had to be done. Somehow, he knew the Enemy would come in but a short time. 

After a few moments, he sat back up, and smiled softly as he glanced at what lay before him. Adding more land to Paradise, he created a barrier, a jungle barrier filled with marshes and thickets and soon, deadly creatures. All of his previous creations had been peaceful, and he hadn't strayed too far from what his memories provided him. But this jungle had to be dangerous, if it was to protect the rest of Paradise from harm.

Behind him, a stretch of tall grass fields separated this jungle from the gentler forests and lands of the interior of Paradise He knew that about a good distance away, the jungle ended and the beach began, all within his mental image and in reality. Sighing, he stood up, and brushed himself off. Now he would fill the jungle with far more tenacious creatures, creatures that would provide his Creation with protection.

Closing his eyes, he first pictured a vaguely humanoid, but far larger shape with rippling muscles underneath crimson fur, with a slightly hunched, but predatory stance. Summoning up feelings up rage and fury, he infused the creature with the feelings, and then added three more to the picture, two of them female.

Opening his emerald eyes fearfully, hesitantly, he saw the first of his monsters. The lead creature, a male gave a gruff snort to its creator, and then delivered a harsh blow to the skull of the other male, sending it crashing to the ground. The second male gave a loud roar and hurled himself at the leader, sending the two crashing to the ground. The two grappled, but Harry merely turned away and left, knowing the conflict would be resolved, feeling a harsh weight temper within his gut.

Such creatures hadn't deviated far from his vague and unclear memories, but now they had murder in their veins.

Still, they would make powerful protectors. But a nagging feeling of guilt continued to persist, something... unclean and almost... Evil.

* * *

The Creator collapsed to the ground, feeling the soft ivory sand beneath his body, feeling the sweat fall like rain from his body, and feeling the guilt over his evil deeds fester within him. He knew that what he had done was a great sin. There was no other word for it. He had sinned, abusing his power to create demons. 

He listened to the lapping waves that now hid dangerous creatures. The last creature he had created, a massive, long, scaled serpent that pushed through the deep blue abyss easily, dangerously.

Above, a swarm of sky blue drakes circled, eying the land for prey as they screeched their battle cries. Their claws glistened like steel in the fading sun as they flew onward.

Behind him, he heard the loud, agonized scream of one of his creatures, before a loud and vicious crunch of bones, as if they were devoured cut it off, and then silence rained. A morbid chuckle broke through Harry's mouth that lay buried in the sand. One of his creations had hit another creation... specifically, a bone shredding plant.

Within the deadly jungle, he heard a few loud howls from the wild mongrels that now lived within as they began their first hunts.

He had done his dirty deed. He had protected Paradise with a barrier of life.

But that protection had come at a cost that Harry knew would be great.

Today, Innocence had died. Purity had impurity. Good had Evil. Paradise had been tainted.

In this moment in time, Harry had spawned abominations, and for the first time, had done something with the complete knowledge that he what he was doing had the full intent to kill.

Such was the duty of the Creator when Good was surrounded by Evil, when perfection was surrounded by imperfection, when Paradise was planted in Hell.

To seal up Eden with fiery swords and cherubim.

* * *

Thanks to Nimbirosa, Khadon, Pleione, fhippogriff, Cattatra, PinkyTheSnowman, Quillian, angelkitty77, japanese-jew, Lady of Masbolle, Wren Truesong, arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, Bobboky, FroBoy, nogoalielikeme, Bujiana, Surarrin, Aagwyn, E.A.V, SeekerTLK, Laura, Illucia, DarthDylanBlue, and Silver Warrior for reviewing! 

QA

Nimbirosa- MWHAHAHA! You cannot fight the Man (the Power, Corporate Evil, the Government, etc). My power is absolute!

Khadon- Yeah, Lily didn't actually disappear, but I guess I might have implied that. She flew off very, very quickly. But on the idea that Lily is more than just wings and a sword? No comment.

Cattatra- You're really quite a fan of Lily, aren't you? Yeah, she has white robes on, so she's not naked. Now, as for if Lily, or for that matter, anything Harry creates, has free will, that's an issue Harry has to grapple with. For example, Lily herself was created with a single, absolute dominating purpose. Protect Harry. So, does she do it out of free will or because that is what she was created to do? Yeah... this could get a bit deep.

PinkyTheSnowman- Jeez, alright already. I updated the day after! Glad you enjoyed everything... and perhaps there will be more cursing of Voldemort's sneakiness later...

Lady of Masbolle- Nah, Harry doesn't remember that bit about Destiny. And when he does... whoo boy, you'd better get ready for some twists. Both sides do have minions... and now, as you can see, Harry and Tom have armies too.

Wren Truesong- Harry's going to be grappling with more moral issues than my Social Justice class. I've got to do something since Harry isn't able to obliterate hundreds of people with one hand.

Bobboky- Harry's memories come in flashes, and he's been suppressing some of them. Sirius' animagus form is one of them.

Aagwyn- Yeah, I did. It is kind of the same ideas, but I'm taking them in a few different directions.

E.A.V- Thank you for such constructive criticism. First off, No, Harry no longer has a sunburn, but he did back then. I'm trying to work with the characters more, to bring them to life per se, but Harry's kind of dominating most of the monologues, since the story kind of revolves around his issues. Now, I was trying to make it a bit smarter, but I also didn't want Harry's philosophies to sound a little too complicated for a sixteen-year old amnesiac, and he was just starting out with his powers, so he isn't dipping into insanity yet.

Next, truly fertile ground would be black, which I didn't know, thank you for that (I'm no expert). Now, Harry (albeit myself) doesn't know how to fully construct an ecosystem, and Harry, through both not having gone to muggle school after the age of ten and being an amnesiac, doesn't know about microbes, proteins, all the basic building blocks of life. He knows goldfish. His powers know how to make Life, but they take directions from Harry. He just says to them what to do, and they do it. You can drive a car without knowing all the mechanics of a car. Same deal.

Harry doesn't have the power to "send" her reinforcements. He has to be physically there, or at least have more than a glimpsing image of a place to create things. Which also answers the question of if he can transplant things.

SeekerTLK- Well thank you. I definitely agree that the plot is kind of steering me around, giving me an idea to work in from time to time.

Illucia- Yeah, don't worry about the H/G. I will be mentioning the creation thing soon enough too.

DarthDylanBlue- I still do love the world of MTG, but alas, times for such things grow rare. When I started this, I knew that I was using elements of a world that few, if any, had heard of, and I'm glad to see there are fans of MTG out there. I am making this story a definite priority, and I am absolutely endeared by how different it is. You're right that this is short, but you're estimation is off, as there are still a few plot twists that haven't yet shown themselves. Good point about the average MTG book too, looking back over them, they are fairly fast paced and bloody.

Silver Warrior- Me too. The only time I've read D/G was in the Psychic Serpent Trilogy, and that's only because I knew it would turn H/G. Its also in there that I realized how much I loathed the pairing.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A review would be a nice thank you (wink wink nudge nudge).


	10. Sin

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Let's all give a hand to Nimbirosa, who beta-ed this chapter and made it flow all the more smoothly.

* * *

Chapter 10 Sin

Harry stood at the edge of Paradise, shrouded in beautiful moonlight, and sighed. He had been doing that a lot in the past week as he examined each defense, watched his creatures-no, Monsters, he corrected, and generally tried to avoid thinking about that weight in his gut. That weight... that feeling of being unclean, of Evil, Of Sin.

He needed to expel that feeling somehow, rid himself of it before he went insane. He desperately needed to do so, before this dark feeling overwhelmed his soul and sanity. Suddenly, his muse spun him an idea. He could drain himself of that feeling, expel all of it out into one area and one time.

The thought of such freedom enticed Harry to the point where he almost did it right then and there. But something stopped him.

Paradise had been tainted enough. It should not have to bear the weight of his Sin.

Glancing at the sky, he saw that Lily was still up there, still watching him, as always. Calling her down, he said softly, "There is something I must do alone. Wait here for me."

Lily seemed to want to protest, but respected her master's wishes.

Harry turned and exhaled, preparing himself for his task. Briskly, he proceeded to walk away from the Guardian, heading into the interior of Paradise. After an indeterminate amount of time, he found himself at what he considered the heart of Paradise. The oasis that he had first started with, that singular body of water that he crafted. His first-born creation.

Perhaps this was the right place to begin his journey to purge himself of his sins. Turning away from the oasis, he came to a small clearing a small distance away from the water. Mostly empty, as if Harry had always envisioned this spot to be used for this purpose. Closing his eyes, Harry pictured a tunnel, going deep, deep, deep into the earth, deep into the island that was Paradise. Opening his eyes, he found a gaping darkness awaited him, as if hungry for his Sin.

Glancing around one more time, as if taking in the memory of Paradise before he began his descent into Hell to purge himself, Harry drank down his fear, packing it deep into the festering pit of Sin in him, and took a step into the Darkness.

* * *

Severus Snape knelt in Darkness, kneeling as he fought down the usual revulsion and bile at the sight of the Dark Lord. The red eyed demon stood tall and straight, as if carved out of limestone, simply standing still, waiting for the rest of his Inner Circle to arrive. The Devil stood cloaked in black, covering his missing limb and revealing only the pale ivory of his right arm and the small sliver of wood that was his wand.

After almost an Eternity to the Potions Master, the Inner Circle was assembled. For a moment, there was utter silence and shadow. And then the demon spoke.

"Why so silent my servants?" Lord Voldemort hissed softly, not moving, "Why do you not inquire as to your Lord's health? Are you afraid? Or are you perhaps rethinking your loyalties?"

Immediately, a small burst of indistinct voices began chattering in a single chorus, which Voldemort silenced with a raise of his right hand.

"I sense doubt," the Dark Lord whispered, and sniffed the air, his crimson pupils glinting dangerously. "I smell fear. Are you afraid of that... apparition," he asked quietly, rhetorically.

"I believed I had proven my power when I disposed of Potter. Perhaps a reminder of my power is in order." Lord Voldemort whispered, raising his wand, his voice echoing throughout the chamber as every Inner Circle member prepared themselves for the assault.

"CRUCIO!"

The Dark Lord basked in the glorious symphony of screams and closed his blood red eyes in rapture.

Harry found himself going deep, deeper, deeper, deeper into the bowels of the Earth, deep below Paradise and earth, deep, deep into the pits. Next to him bobbed a single golden light that guided him further and further into the pit. It would be here where he would expel the Evil that lurked within his soul, that had compounded with every single deed that had dirtied Paradise.

Here he would expel his Morningstar from the gates of Paradise, and cast Sin deep into the bowels of the Earth. To keep Paradise from being compromised any further... he would do the unthinkable. He would create Evil in opposition to Good, he would create Hell below Paradise. This was all necessary, for if perfection was to exist, imperfection had to exist to show what was not perfect.

_There are more things about Heaven and Hell than man has ever dreamed_, Harry thought wryly, considering his unique position, to create Evil to defend Good.

Sighing, the Creator continued his descent into Darkness.

Severus Snape did his best not to collapse to the floor as the demon let go of cursing his Inner Circle, feeling every limb, every part of him scream in protest for not letting them collapse. To do so would only mean more pain.

The Dark Lord did not seem satisfied, obviously only relieving his servants of pain to keep them sane. But a dark glint in the devil's eyes told the Potions Master that there was more to this meeting than a simple torture session.

"Rookwood." Lord Voldemort spoke softly, and immediately, the Death Eater scurried forward.

"My Lord?" Augustus Rookwood asked fearfully.

"You did not kill her, as I asked." The demon whispered, and his words seemed akin to a death knell ringing out.

"M-my Lord, she was too quick, Dumbledore-" That was all Rookwood could offer before, in a flash, the Dark Lord cast off his cloak and finally moved and a near collective gasp from the entire Inner Circle was heard. August Rookwood screamed in agony as he felt his life, his essence, his soul being violently ripped away from his body, seizing it and consuming it, and then suddenly his voice died off, and a withered, empty corpse collapsed to the stone floor.

Snape swallowed in fear at what he was saw, and knew that this did not bode well for the Order.

Where Lord Voldemort's left arm had been cut off, something new had taken its place. When the torchlight's danced correctly, glittering, dangerous silver that gleamed in the shadows softly, as dagger-like claws flexed slowly, small droplets of Rookwood's blood from shallow cuts coating the deadly argentite. Almost unseen, within this bizarre limb, lay a single dark green, almost midnight black gem that seemed to absorb all light.

"I do not accept failure." The Dark Lord began, stepping towards his Death Eaters. "But even in death, Rookwood served his purpose. He has shown you the price of such failure. He has shown you my power."

Every Death Eater paid rapt attention. Any misstep would mean Rookwood's fate.

The Devil had stepped past his Death Eaters, and did not turn to face them, his back an immovable wall. "We will begin an immediate search for that... thing." The red eyed devil spat, as if spitting forth bile, "And we will kill her, and that master of hers."

Lord Voldemort turned back towards his servants of Darkness, a lethal glint within those crimson pupils causing a suppressed shudder within every Death Eater. "And this time, Lily Potter will _not_ survive."

* * *

At long last, the Creator found himself in the deepest Darkness, far below Paradise. Although the air had thinned, a mere thought had suddenly made the air breathable. His small orb of golden light was all he had to see now, sending back the Shadows, casting them all across stark and empty rock and dripping drops of water.

Two steps, and Harry reached this single massive stone chamber that lay within his mind and within reality.

It was time to expel Sin from deep within the Creator. Closing his eyes, Harry dragged up all the unclean feelings, the uncertainty, the doubt, the fear. Slowly they came, drawn from the shadows of his soul, but then they began coming in faster, faster, faster, and then suddenly there was a flood of dark feelings, of midnight and impurity, of Evil, of Sin pouring from him, and it felt that though he would drown in the ocean of Darkness.

Abruptly it ceased, and Harry gasped, opening his eyes, stumbling backwards at what he saw, feeling horror and bile rise within him, feeling nothing but absolute terror and utter revulsion in the face of his newest creation.

Somehow, he knew this twisted hulking mass of flesh was grinning viciously at him, despite the fact that it did not have a recognizable face. This horrible, terrible, completely his, embodiment of Sin, Avatar of Evil.

**_Hello Father_**, Sin boomed out, as if its voice had echoed from the depths of Time and the limits of Eternity, stretching from the Beginning of Everything to the End of All, reverberating within Harry's soul as if it was a part of him.

And the Creator fell to his knees in fear and vomited all over the unforgiving floor, his soul and body and mind quaking in fear. A single sentence, a single thought rebounded within the mind of the Creator.

"What have I done?"

* * *

Ginny Weasley sat at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, finally able to relax and think. Her mum had been absolutely furious with her and Ron, and she wasn't certain her ears had stopped ringing from the shouting the Weasley Matriarch had done. After that, they had to be extra careful and try not to draw attention to themselves, but so many people were trying to talk to them about what happened that there was no time for the redhead to finally deal with all the things that were bothering her.

After enough persuasion, Hermione lent Ginny the Invisibility Cloak to give the younger girl some time to think on her own.

A small smile flickered across Ginny's face. This had always been her favorite spot to just sit and think, although there were often some snogging (or more) couples around, her spot was relatively untouched most of the time. As the youngest Weasley sat at this precarious seat, dangling her legs off the edge of the tower, she began to think.

Ever since she saw that angel, something had been bothering her, a feeling that kept nagging at the edges of her consciousness, a feeling she just couldn't explain. When Hermione and Ron told her that it had looked exactly like Harry's mum, a feeling had grown inside of Ginny, a feeling that she just couldn't explain or comprehend.

Harry was alive. Harry was alive, and had sent that angel to stop Voldemort.

The mere thought of the boy she secretly loved was still alive filled her heart with a joy she had never known before, replacing all the months of pain and sorrow and grief in an instant. It was as if she had been walking in the deepest night, and then suddenly, the dawn broke, and sunlight once again shined on her. She felt alive again, as if she had been half dead when it seemed Harry was lost.

And a new thought entered the redhead's mind. She had to find Harry. She needed to see him, to know that he really was alive and unhurt.

And with that, that devious glint normally associated with the twins' eyes made itself known in the redhead's own as a plan formed itself in Ginny Weasley's mind. After all, anything's possible... if you've got enough nerve.

* * *

Harry stood before the personification of absolute Sin, and could do nothing but gape in utter revulsion and fear at the hulking, twisted form it took. Everywhere, the massive bulk of the monstrosity stretched, immense and bulbous, a pale, sickly fish-belly white, mottled and wrinkled. Tentacles whipped about, striking the air and walls, exploring the cavern, like the first steps of a child. The face, if it could be called that, was too massive for him to see clearly, but it was filled with rows of dangerously sharp teeth that gleamed like blades.

The creature seemed almost smiling dangerously at the Creator, as if pleased with the fear and dread that was almost drowning Harry. Forcing himself to speak and not vomit, Harry said shakily, his voice laced with terror, "Wha-What are you?"

A dark, deep, booming chuckle burst forth from the abomination, the noise rebounding about the chamber and surrounding Harry in its clamoring din. **_I, _**it began amusedly, **_I am a monument to all your sins. I am the epitome of all your demons; brutal, vicious, and lacking truth. I am the perfect, true reflection of your world, your... Paradise, _**the last word was said with such sarcasm that it shook Harry viciously and he bristled, **_as I am lacking truth, and yet I exist. _**

"You are my Sin," Harry whispered softly, disbelievingly.

Another chuckle resonated about the chamber. **_Indeed... for I have been within you since that first creeping shadow fell in your heart, and have grown softly, steadily, as a tree grows stronger with each passing season. _**

And somewhere with Harry, he knew it was true, that this abomination's words rang true. And with that thought, the Creator knew only one thing could be done. Sin had to be locked away, buried down here. It could not be destroyed, not now, not here, in this place. The Creator did not have enough strength... yet. Slowly, Harry stood defiantly against his own Sin.

"I cannot let you leave this place." Harry said firmly, standing tall and unbowed.

This time, a deep, Earth rattling waterfall of laughter cascaded about the chamber. **_You cannot stop Sin. You cannot stop yourself, _**the monstrosity responded, its tone smug and amused.

"We'll see." The Creator responded, and turned to leave the chamber, ready at a moment's notice to create a barrier to defend himself. But Sin did nothing, not when Harry entered the tunnel, and said nothing when Harry reached the end of the tunnel, about to enter Paradise.

Taking a step back into the waning moonlight and the rising sun, Harry closed his eyes as he turned, preparing to seal up the tunnel, undo everything he had done, and seal way Evil.

**_Go on and seal me away for now. But Sin cannot be stopped, for it exists in all things. I will fester and grow until only Darkness remains beneath you. From beneath you, I will devour you, _**Sin called out at last, from deep below the surface, within the Darkness, just as Harry opened his eyes and the tunnel ceased to exist, replaced by solid, impenetrable rock.

Harry suppressed a shudder, and, against all odds and all his power, felt a fearful suspicion that the abomination's words were true.

* * *

Thanks to arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, SeekerTLK, Cattatra, Wren Truesong, Emma Barrows, nogoalielikeme, Pleione, x, phoenix catcher, Vegita43, japanese-jew, PinkyTheSnowman, korrd, Dumbledore, FroBoy, Lady of Masbolle, Silver Warrior, Phoenix Fawkes05, Xandrine, Hekate101, Surarrin, Silver Sen, mashimaromadness, Bobboky, and Dreaming Rabbit for reviewing!

QA

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She- Ah... the Phyrexians. Man those guys have inspired me a lot. A little bit of it here, more of it in other fics.

SeekerTLK- Thanks. You're right about most fics not raising thoughts, which is another reason that I hope sets this story apart.

Cattatra-Nah, Lily's not his real mother, and she's not really able to lecture him. Not in her nature. Harry's powers can also create land, so the island can grow and grow. Sirius brings back painful memories, and Harry's kind of been trying to run from them. He sent Lily out to rid his mind of Voldemort.

Wren Truesong- Hope your mom's okay. And who says there aren't dragons... but benign creatures like Lily aren't fully equipped to wage cold-blooded war.

Things like Sin up there, however, will have no qualms.

korrd- The island is somewhere in the Atlantic. Harry's blood isn't in his creations, just pieces of his mind.

Dumbledore- I'm purposefully not showing you all the defenses, or telling you everything about the island. You'll get the full description later, when events start moving. Harry's a bit hesitant to make a full retinue of Guardians, seeing as how just the image of Lily disturbs him. But then again, I haven't shown you all the creatures in his army.

Lady of Masbolle- Lily's blood will teach you something about the nature of Harry's creations. And I can't wait either for the waiting and preparation to end.

Silver Warrior-A little from Krosa, a little from Fangren. Some of the creatures however, stretch back a bit farther back into the Urza cycle.

Phoenix Fawkes05- I've decided to make this H/G, but you'll have to wait a while for it.

Surarrin- They aren't demons so much as really dangerous animals. But you might see a stag or two...

Silver Sen- Harry needs creatures of murder and hate to wage war, not defenders. Plus, who really wants to use pure creatures like Lily to wage war against pure Evil?

Bobboky- That grass field is a barrier between Evil and Good. The creatures don't have instincts to leave their respective areas. Everything that cannot think or purposefully defends Harry (i.e. Lily) cannot harm him and obeys his will. Sentient life, however, has a curse. Free will.

Dreaming Rabbit- Please stop spamming my stories, begging for a sequel. All that's going to do is annoy me.

AN: As we see more of Sin, MTG players might notice a few similarities between it and two different Magic cards. Even if you don't play MTG, you might be able to catch the other inspirations (hint: They come from video games). I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'd love to hear from you!


	11. Castles In The Sky

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Chapter 11 Castles In the Sky

Harry stood on Paradise, and shivered in revulsion. Since last night, the Creator had not slept, and every step into Paradise felt as though he was dipping himself into Sin. All he could think about was that horrible creature that lived beneath him, the Evil that he was responsible for.

Its words haunted him. **_I am lacking truth, and yet I exist. _**The phrase haunted his thoughts, and hit home on why he always had that small uncomfortable feeling around his creations, especially Lily. Everything he created... was it unreal? Was everything just a dream that would fade away in time?

He could no longer ignore the feeling of this all being an illusion, and that the real world was out there, waiting for him to return to the nightmare of reality. No longer could he run and hide in his constructed paradise in serenity.

And was Sin preparing, even now, to strike at Paradise? Already there was Voldemort, out there somewhere, no doubt searching to destroy Lily and him by proxy. Now there were two enemies, two devils, two Evils. One within, and one without.

Below the surface, Sin lurked. Above ground, Voldemort hunted mercilessly.

No longer did he feel safe in Paradise. No longer could the Creator sleep in one of his created trees, or walk among his more favored creations. No longer was he at peace in his Heaven.

The Creator could no longer stand the sight of his Creation at all.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk. He too had a nearly sleepless night, his mind filled with questions and disturbed thoughts and mysteries. He hadn't slept much in the past week, his thoughts too disturbed with riddles and wild delusions. At least, he thought they were delusions.

Again, the Headmaster's thoughts came again and again to a single, impossible idea. But it fit. Dumbledore sighed wearily. The only way to know for sure was if Severus' tests-

As if summoned by his mentor's thoughts, the dour Potions Master nearly ran into the room, his eyes wide and astonished, his greasy hair in disarray. His robes looked as though they hadn't been changed in days, and the normally narrowed jet black of his eyes was nearly bloodshot, but Severus Snape was actually enthusiastic and amazed by _something_.

"Albus! You-You wouldn't believe it!" Severus nearly shouted excitedly, holding a corked vial of the angel Lily's blood in his hand. The octogenarian's heart warmed to see his normally bitter and sarcastic Potions Master alive again. New discoveries made by him often had this sort of effect.

Trying his best not to raise his eyebrows and smile, Dumbledore calmly asked, "Yes, Severus?"

"This... this blood! It's nearly purely magical! Its not just that there is magic _in _the liquid, but that magic is an inseparable part of the blood." Snape panted slightly, and let the words sink in.

Dumbledore's eyes were almost as wide as an owl's for a split second, before he regained control, reeling from the information. Usually, magic was in the blood, but it could be separated, easily spotted. But if it was inseparable, if magic was making up the blood, making up the entirety of the creature, then- a single thought burst through his brain, an impossible idea that was ludicrous, utter nonsense. But a second thought soon followed.

_Dear Merlin. It explains everything. _

The Headmaster stood straight up, his face almost as excited as Snape. "Severus, assemble the Order. We're having a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, and I want it tonight."

* * *

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He let loose a loud, primal scream of revulsion and horror that reverberated about the whole of Paradise, sending even the fiercest abomination shivering in terror of the fury of the Creator.

Immediately, the Guardian was at his side, her wings flapping rapidly, as if she were a startled bird. "What's wrong master?" Lily asked urgently.

"I-..." Harry couldn't put it into words. He wanted to be free, to get out of Paradise, to- "I want to be able to fly." The Creator whispered softly.

Lily's eyes widened, and she said gently, "You could simply add them onto your body, master."

The Creator shook his head. "Not flying in the sky... but... I want to be able to escape this place." Harry glanced at the siren that was the endlessly blue sky, singing him to freedom. "I want to be up there." He said simply.

"Then be up there." The Guardian replied simply.

Harry's eyes widened, and he smiled warmly at the angel. "You have a point."

* * *

In a different place in Paradise, the earth shifted slightly. A single, long tentacle burst from the dirt, and probed the air around it, almost... smelling it. After a moment, it retreated.

Deep below the earth, far below Paradise, Sin lurked. Shifting slightly, it almost smiled.

_**As one god leaves the Earth, another god supplicates. This world shall be mine. **_

_**Three powers move ever closer, spiraling to an inevitable, predestined conflict. Life and Death, Creator and god of Death shall do battle. And from the ashes of their conflict, Sin shall rise and the world shall be mine again. **_

_**The gods of old will die in time, and a new god will replace them. The god of Sin. **_

A deep, mocking laugh burst from the lips of the abomination known as Sin and echoed about the chamber.

* * *

The Creator glanced at the sky once more, framing the clouds and endless blue in his mind. Today, his sanctuary would be made in the heavens.

Slowly, he brought forth and image of boundless strength, determination, and fortitude, solidifying it within stone that was lighter than air. His muse spun him a memory, a memory of a castle that was both his home and battleground, inspiring him further. Little by little, he added touches to the interior, decorating it in red and gold, adding soft carpets and stone knights, turrets and battlements, towers and dungeons. The Creator added a feeling that lay within his heart, a feeling of deep freedom and contentment within the sky, joining it with the determined stone.

The home was done, but if Harry had learned anything, it was that all things worth keeping had to be defended. Sighing, he began drawing upon a rage buried deep in his soul, gathering power and strength to the anger, and tentatively added it to the base of the fortress, creating focal points that seemed like sharp jet black spikes protruding from the brown stone.

Escorts too, his muse suggested, throwing the image of the sky blue wind drakes he had created before to him. The Creator nodded internally, and added them slowly, one by one, until almost a cloud of them filled the area around the castle.

Finally, his home would need to be hidden from danger at times. Dragging up feelings of sneakiness and deceit and lies, the Creator spun a web of cloudy darkness, one thread at a time, slowly knitting together a single formation in which his home would be hidden in plain sight.

Opening his emerald eyes at last, the Creator smiled contentedly at his castle in the sky, before exhaustion overwhelmed him and he blacked out.

* * *

In his fortress, the veritable incarnation of Death stood alone on a balcony, watching his army shuffle forth and train, watch as his crusade of mass genocide slowly came together, and smiled.

In his thirteen endless years as a midnight shadow of Darkness, when he had been exiled to what amounted to Hell for this devil, he had learned and plotted. Slowly, he was forced to reflect and examine his actions and reorganize his original plans. He had realized that his rabble was untrained and undisciplined. A mob would never accomplish his dreams. It would take an army.

An army strong enough to conquer a world, an army of Death. And he would be its god.

That was what he considered himself now, standing alone and smiling darkly. The god of Death, that was what Lord Voldemort had become. Flexing his new arm slightly, the smile grew feral as he felt the power within, the never ending hunger that radiated from the dark green jewel in what amounted to his palm.

The hunger for Death.

Although the artifact hadn't been intended to serve like this, the... circumstances, forced Lord Voldemort to change his plans and adapt them. But it had worked out better than he had dreamed. Already the potency of but a few deaths, a few souls, was granting him more power than this self-proclaimed god of Death had ever thought possible.

And now that he was Death itself, he would be immune to his own powers. Death could not touch Death.

And so, the god of Death would devour every last infidel that stood in his way until at last, Lord Voldemort's ideals and world were all that remained amid the ashes of a broken world. His utopia, his paradise would incarnate itself at last.

But first... first he would deal with that thing, that ghost, that angel. Although his wounds had healed, the devil seethed with fury at such a loss. Never before had he been so humiliated, so routed, so utterly defeated. A desire for revenge, a hate unlike anything Lord Voldemort had ever felt before sang in his veins, beyond even his loathing of Potter, and the devil welcomed it.

There was no where that anyone, even an angel, could hide from the wrath of Death. In time, all his enemies would face the inevitable.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Lucius Malfoy stepped forth from the shadows, glancing appraisingly at the army before kneeling behind his god of Death.

The devil spoke softly, but his every word was laced with anticipation. "What is it?"

A small smirk appeared on the blond's face. "My Lord, our ranks have swelled to over five hundred marked. We have enough in this fortress at any given time to overwhelm Dumbledore's pitiful Order."

The god of Death did not even give the idea a moment to be considered. "And what about the news of that... creature?"

At this, the smirk disappeared on Lucius Malfoy's face, replaced by a mask of nothingness, although inwardly the Death Eater quivered at the idea of torture under his master. "We... we have not found much yet, my lord-" Before any excused could leave his lips, Lord Voldemort raised his hand, his real one, cutting the words off.

"You have failed me Lucius." The red eyed devil might as well have said "Avada Kedavra" for the death knell the words brought. "However, you still have your... uses, and it appears that the old fool is in the same situation, so we still have time."

The Inner Circle member breathed a sigh of relief.

"But you still failed."

Lucius Malfoy's eyes widened a fraction and he sucked in a small gasp of air.

"Crucio."

After a few moments of enjoying the screams in the same way another might enjoy good music, the devil released his subordinate and dismissed him. And once more, Lord Voldemort's attention was directed on his retribution.

The god of Death would burn and destroy and devastate all that lay in his path until he had his revenge on the angel.

For nothing escapes the eternal embrace of Death.

* * *

"You know something, don't you?" Remus Lupin asked the old man quietly. It was after the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had instructed them that he and a select group of people (including Remus) would be leaving on a voyage to find the Angel-Lily. Although protests had erupted, the reasoning was that a powerful ally would be necessary in these times.

Plus, who was going to argue with Albus Dumbledore?

For a few moments, Albus Dumbledore was silent, keeping his back to the man. Finally, he spoke. "Hope is a powerful weapon... it can give strength but also destroy someone if it is taken away."

The werewolf shook his head. "That's not an answer," He replied, irritation lacing his voice.

The Headmaster finally turned and looked at Remus with tired eyes. "I cannot give you one then."

"Then answer me this," The werewolf began, "Tell me if this has something to do with Harry."

Dumbledore didn't reply, and turned away before anything could be read from his eyes, but the silence told all.

"I see." Remus turned and looked out the window, not saying anything.

The werewolf and the Headmaster stood next to each other, silently pondering their own thoughts.

And outside the door, a redheaded girl under an invisibility cloak held her hand over her lips as she retracted the Extendable Ear, a plan forming in her mind.

* * *

The Creator stood alone in the center of the flying castle, having told the Guardian to keep watch outside while he was examining the hallways of his new home. And what a home it was.

Faintly, Harry could hear the hunting screech of a wind drake, as he called the sky blue drakes that soared like the wind near the castle. An answering screech bellowed from one of the numerous towers that were inhabited at times by resting drakes. Although he was not looking out of a window, Harry could tell that the barrier of clouds was blocking the view anyway.

Inside, corridors led into empty rooms with tokens of memories he could not recall. Massive halls that could house an ungodly multitude... or an host of angels. Dining halls, some small and homely, some so expansive it could take an hour to walk from one side to the next. Statues of medieval knights stood at eternal attention, and at his whim, the Creator could spring them to life. Endless bedrooms for him to sleep in, some built for kings, some built for peasants, all for him. Half finished paintings barely recalled decorated Spartan walls.

In this labyrinth that was his home, Harry could hide from the world for all eternity. No longer would he have to live in fear or in the feeling of illusions. Now he could go anywhere, or lose himself in this castle, forever defended by a gravity defying fortress. This castle in the sky would be his Sanctuary for all eternity.

And what a castle it was. More than a mere rejection of the laws of physics, more than a nearly unbeatable castle, more than a callously unthinking defiance of every law that God had placed on this earth. One of his most potent creations made the Creator all but invincible here, in Sanctuary.

The entirety of this building was made up of this creation that defied gravity, and the hallways were furnished with it as well, save for the furniture. A piece of said creation lay in his hand, looking for all the world like an ordinary, lumpy, tan, rock.

But like its seemingly normal Creator, the stone had power unimaginable.

Smiling softly to himself, Harry focused his will on the stone, imagining it in the shape of a cube. Immediately, the rock pooled and reformed itself as the same cube that lay in his mind. Next, a bowl. Then, a small hand, then a leaf, and finally a knife.

The Creator laughed as he admired the potential ability of this rock and this castle, and his laughter rebounded upon empty walls and surrounded him in a chorus of sound. To Harry, it sounded warm and friendly, like laughing with old friends.

To a listener, it was the laughter of a mad god reveling in its latest abomination.

* * *

Thanks to Emma Barrows, Khadon, reviewer, nogoalielikeme, PinkyTheSnowman, Pleione, Vegita43, Alan Quicksilver, Dumbledore, Cattatra, arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, SeekerTLK, Bobboky, ApocSM, Lady-Elizabeth4242, Laura, japanese-jew, Nic'sim87, Silver Warrior, Wren Truesong, Crysania Fay, PersonaJXT, FroBoy, Rose of Many Thorns, mashimaromadness, Daimyo, spike blade, and HellsMaji for reviewing!

Q&A

Khadon- When do evil villains not meet and make unholy alliances and/or deals?

reviewer- I understand your hesitation to buy into my use of the H/G ship, but I'd like it if you heard me out before you stopped reading. I haven't made you like Ginny yet because I believe that the reason someone supports a ship, even in one fic, is because they like the interaction of the characters. And so far, Ginny (and everyone else aside from a small number) have not interacted with Harry, or even seen him since the start of this story. Also, the spotlight isn't going to be shared or hogged by Ginny. Its on Harry and his powers (and Voldemort too, I guess) more often than not. The spotlight will be on Ginny's interaction with Harry and his god-like powers. I'm really sorry if I made you feel that I was forcing you to like Ginny, because I'm not, and I never expected anyone to just go for the H/G ship on the spot. I can't really show what I'm doing with Ginny's character until she actually starts interacting with Harry now, can I? Secondly, the pyscho-babble is unfortunately, a component of the story. And on a final note, I've actually grown to kind of loath what I did to RWYS, or as its now called, Fixing Broken Glass. I realize that the romance was... forced on us a bit, and I apologize. I was still (and still am) learning to write.

PinkyTheSnowman- Yeah, its from FFX. (Laughs) No, its not just that with Tom. Snape recognized what was imbued into that arm (and no, I'm not telling).

Dumbledore- Sin is inherently evil, but is a part of Harry. Its agenda is not as clear cut as you might think it is though. But you are correct in the idea that Sin is a self-preservationist.

Cattatra- Soon, soon. (Laughs) Babies? Haven't you ever seen Dogma? Angels aren't equipped for that sort of thing. Like them, Lily isn't built to reproduce. She's a Guardian.

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She- To an extent, yeah, they are an army of horrors.

SeekerTLK- (snorts) Smite button? I love that word. The philosophical part of this story deals a lot with those subjects, and there's also a bit of symbolism here, with Harry and Tom representing opposing forces. And no, I didn't wait in line for Halo 2. Lucky me, huh?

ApocSM- (laughs) That makes like five people to ask that question. I'm not annoyed, I'm actually pleasantly surprised there is this many people who have played MTG that recognize some things. I was expecting maybe one or even two people, not this many. So to answer your question, yes, Ixidor is the inspiration for this fic (literally, since I read Onslaught then wrote this after like five minutes).

Lady-Elizabeth4242- Yeah, the line "From beneath you, it devours" is from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. Couldn't resist.

Laura- This was inspired by a book/card game, and at times, the story has changed itself and forced me to go along with it, but its all held together by a few key ideas from myself. And to your second question, (grins), now that would just spoil some of the fun, wouldn't it?

japanese-jew- (raises eyebrow) I think Harry's got enough problems _without_ having a madness inducing artifact of unimaginable power at his fingertips. And you missed on the abominations, they're not part of this. Some of Chainer's nightmare's might/will make appearances though.

Silver Warrior- Sin is partly a mix of a few MTG cards, but also stems from video games. If you don't know the older sets, you'll miss some of the creatures, but I'll also draw from the newer sets. No Skullclamp though, I'm afraid.

Wren Truesong- (laughs) Haven't read either, but I would like to one day. And yeah, Lily's a lot nicer than Sin, don't you think?

Crysania Fay- That arm of Voldie's is going to be trouble, trust me. Its already made him more insane. A lot of people were disturbed by Sin, and all I can say is, I hope you'll steel yourself for later. But don't worry, Sin won't show up again for a while. Will Sin kill Harry? That would mean killing itself though... And perhaps the old man has gotten the clue.

PersonaJXT- You underestimate Sin. It's smarter than it looks... which isn't saying much. But suffice to say it might not be Tom doing the using...

FroBoy- Angel's are too pure for the horror of war. Harry needed monsters to fight monsters.

Daimyo- I'm glad you find this fic so worthy.

HellsMaji - Who knows what might happen in the future...

AN: Thanks for reading this chapter, and I'd love to hear from you!


	12. Set Sail For The Kingdom Come

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Chapter 12 Set Sail For the Kingdom Come

The Creator of Paradise stood atop a balcony in Sanctuary, glancing at his creation. In the distance, he could hear the cry of a drake, see a massive wurm devour the tree line as it chased a small group of undistinguishable dots.

Behind, the Guardian continued her silent, unceasing vigil.

Moving his mind into the stones of the castle, he asked for a drink.

The stones, moving more like quicksilver instead of rock, became tendrils of earthy material as they brought forth a glass.

Harry smiled, and took a deep drink.

It was his own creation, a filling, deep blue concoction that tasted of spring and rain. The goblet was his own as well, shimmering, prism-like crystal that glimmered with all the colors man had ever known... and some that it had never dreamed.

Watching the concoction as he swirled the glass about, he briefly considered an old idea of his. This was his creation, sprung from the depths of his mind. Now it was returned to his body. Ideas becoming real, and real returning to idea.

_Madness._

Harry laughed, either bitterly or insanely, he could not tell.

Everything was madness. His Paradise, his castle, his creations, everything is madness when the Creator is mad.

* * *

Hermione Granger was widely known for her commitment to academics and her near unparalleled logistic mind.

What was less widely known but no less impressive was her steel like determination when one was hiding a secret from her.

Setting her jaw, she glared at the decidedly uncomfortable Ginny Weasley. "Why, may I ask again, do you want to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak and the map?" She growled.

Ginny, thinking fast, said brightly, "I want to pull a prank."

From the look of things, the bushy haired girl didn't buy it for one second. "Ginny, even_ I_ could tell that was a lie." Ron cut in, rolling his eyes.

A laser-like glare struck Ron, who was eerily reminded of his mother being corrected. "Shut. Up. Ron." His little sister nearly growled, each word punctuated by an obstinate stomp of her foot.

"Okay, what's really going on?" Hermione demanded adamantly.

Ginny glanced at the determined glint in her friend's eyes, and then to her brother's suspicious look. She sighed.

"Fine. Don't bother sitting down."

* * *

Two days later (and a few castings of Enervate), Ron, Ginny, and Hermione found themselves in a smallish cabin. It was Dumbledore's (i.e. the Order's) ship, known as the _Destiny Seeker_, complete with white sails and a phoenix flag. They had been allowed onboard after a rather peculiar meeting...

"_Quiet Ron!" Hermione admonished with a harsh whisper underneath the Invisibility cloak. _

"_No, you be quiet!" Ron retorted._

"_How about both of you be quiet!" Ginny nearly screamed, kicking her brother in the shin, hard. "They'll catch us!"_

_The trio had tailed the Headmaster using the Marauder's Map and the cloak, out of the castle and onto Hogwart's lake. There, they had snuck aboard the ship that was already waiting for Dumbledore._

_It should be noted that they were unaware of the fact that Albus Dumbledore has the innate ability to see through Invisibility Cloaks. Of course, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were not aware of this fact at the time, so their surprise was expected._

_It happened as they were about to sneak away and find a place to hide aboard the ship. _

_Dumbledore, who had been discussing something with Remus Lupin, said, "Oh, Miss Granger? Your cabins are to the right."_

_Needless to say, they had been quite shocked. _

"Where do you think we're headed?" Ron asked quietly, glancing out the window.

"I don't know Ron." Hermione replied aimlessly, also looking out the window. She gave both her friends a slight glare when they gave her a gaping look. "I really don't!"

"First time for everything." Ron muttered. Ginny giggled, and laughed out loud when Hermione struck Ron's arm.

"Prat." She retorted.

"Bossy." The redhead shot back.

Ginny rolled her eyes and placed a pillow over her head. "Its going to be a long trip." She groaned.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy shivered as he was once more called before his master, his god. Entering a chamber deep within the fortress, the only light was a massive Dark Mark that glowed eternally, a macabre symbol of its creator.

"You called for me, my lord?" He whispered softly, but his words echoed about the darkened chamber.

Crimson eyes opened, blood bright in the chamber light.

"Lucius... my spies have informed me that Dumbledore has left Hogwarts." Death hissed quietly, but his voice was projected about the room and became a roaring winter wind.

An eager glint appeared in Malfoy's eyes. "When do we strike?"

A curious glint resonated in Voldemort's pupils. "We will not. I wish you to commission a group to follow Dumbledore."

Lucius' head snapped up, blond hair whipping about wildly. "My Lord?" He asked, stupefied.

A smirk snaked its away across the god of Death's countenance. "Was I not clear, Lucius?"

Swallowing, the Death Eater bowed lower. "Of course not, my lord. It shall be done." He stood up, and bowed again, and left, more confused than ever.

On his throne, the avatar of Death smiled, and sank deeper into his throne.

* * *

The minds of men are forever questioning.

Who am I?

Why am I here?

What is my purpose?

Is there a higher power in this mundane existence?

If the minds of mere mortals are so confused, how much more are the minds of mortals with the power of God?

The mind of Harry James Potter (Though he does not know his full name as of yet), is endlessly filled with an ever rampantly growing abyss of questions. Such thoughts are things that many mortals have not yet dreamed...

_For most would go Mad._

Idly, this man-boy-god watched a golden spark dance across his finger, going from the tip and down, and then back, and then to his middle finger. A mere insignificant, unimportant, and ultimately tiny portion of his power.

_The terrifying force of Creation, in the hands of a mortal boy. _

With a thought, he knew he could bring down this castle, or use it to annihilate everything in his way. With a thought, he could rise a tide to wash the world clean. With a thought, hundreds, thousands, millions, billions of beings could come into existence in the blink of Time.

_With a thought._

All this unlimited potential...

_In the hands of a boy teetering on the edge of sanity. _

Whoever's in charge of the universe obviously screwed up... badly.

* * *

"You realize Molly is going to kill you, right?" Remus said amusedly, glancing at where the three students' cabin was situated.

"Will she?" The Headmaster replied lightly, fingering his beard.

The werewolf shook his head. "I understand your reasoning, of course." He paused, and swallowed down memories of happier times like a bitter pill. "They are extremely determined, and far too smart for their own good. Harry chose his friends wisely."

"I do not believe it was choice," Dumbledore replied, smiling in a way that was different than all the smiles he had given to his students, to the school as he opened a feast, and very unfamiliar to most. It was a very genuine, very real smile, almost like a parent's pride. "I believe that it was fate."

Lupin found that he could not disagree.

Turning, the Headmaster said, "Come. We'd best get on our way."

Nodding, Remus followed, a feeling much like eagerness bouncing in his step.

* * *

At a distance, situated just outside the wards, a group of five Death Eaters, headed by Bellatrix Lestrange, watched the ship closely. The Inner Circle member stood still, only the eager (or perhaps insane) glint in her eye betraying the anticipation she felt.

Nearby, other Death Eaters were not so calm. Jugson, the next senior rank, fidgeted quietly, but barely noticeably. For some reason, a quiet, deep dread had sunk into his gut about this mission.

However, Bellatrix and more importantly, the Dark Lord had no such sentiments.

"It is time." Lestrange whispered, a tinge of satisfaction and eagerness in her soft voice as she watched the ship begin to sink into the water.

"How will we follow?" A recruit asked, no such anticipation in his voice.

The senior Death Eater gave him a condescending, superior look. "The Dark Lord has taken precautions. We know where the ship will resurface. From there we will track that ship by broom. Now activate your Portkeys."

Nodding, the fanatic followers of Death, as one, disappeared.

* * *

_**Two forces, racing towards a third, none fully aware of the other two. **_

_**Three powers about to collide.**_

_**Destiny's axis has begun to shift again.**_

**_The war between Life and Death, the god of Creation and the god of Death, shall begin anew._**

_**The world shall burn into ash and dust and smoke. The old gods will give way to the new.**_

_**And then Sin shall rise, and take the world and strangle it with its embrace. **_

The unholy, fish belly colored abomination laughed, feeling its tentacles that had burrowed half way across the world, deep into the earth, like a cancer.

The war of the gods was about to begin... all it needed was a little Sin to start.

* * *

"From the looks of the talisman, we're nearing our target." Albus Dumbledore murmured, looking directly at a small, glowing vial that, without any breeze or outside movement, was tugged by an invisible force towards a direction. A special concoction, designed to track the movements of a person by their blood. Usually wards easily interfered with this, but, as Albus had gambled on, there were no wards protecting the angel. After a moment, he looked up, and his gaze darkened.

Following the elder's gaze, Remus Lupin gaped at what he saw. Massive, impossibly tall obsidian spires that punctured the womb of the sky, all in an equally impossible . "By all the gods new and old," He murmured unconsciously, "What in the name of Merlin built that?"

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was unusually quiet, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

A soft patter alerted the werewolf that there were others on deck.

"Bloody hell, what's that!" Ron cried out in surprise and a bit of fear.

Hermione didn't correct him, her own jaw currently meeting its new friend, the floor. Ginny was in much the same way.

"I honestly don't know, Mister Weasley." The Headmaster said quietly. "Captain! Take us to that island!"

This, of course, did nothing to help the unease.

* * *

Unbeknownst to those who were onboard the _Destiny Seeker, _five Death Eaters, led by Bellatrix, was tracking them, and by proxy, tracking the angel as well.

The journey had been fairly smooth, and quick, thankfully, Dumbledore's vessel was magical, and thus, much faster.

However, they were about to encounter the first of the formidable defenses Harry had erected around his creation.

Harsh, violent winds began to strike at the Death Eaters, who struggled with all their might to hang onto their brooms.

Jugson was the first to fail, the broom slipping from his grip and he fell to the ocean floor, striking it with hard, solid crack. He was dead long before the depths of the ocean claimed him.

Bellatrix screamed in fury as two more Death Eaters toppled to the bottom of the ocean, and she barely hung on. Finally, she was faced with no other alternative, than to face a word that in all the time she had been with the Dark Lord, she had never been forced to use.

"RETREAT!"

Nodding gratefully, the final Death Eater activated his second Portkey.

With one final scream of rage and a prayer that the Dark Lord would be satisfied with the location of Dumbledore, Bellatrix was gone.

* * *

For a good hour, the magically enhanced vessel sped along towards the target. Then, they ran into the first defense that had defeated the Death Eaters.

"Professor! The winds picking up!" The captain, a cognac haired man by the name of Trowa Barton, yelled.

Wincing, Remus felt his robes whip about him violently. "This isn't natural, Albus!" He shouted, glancing at the clear sky.

Next to him, Hermione gasped as she was sent crashing backwards, barely managing to be caught by both Weasleys.

Instead of responding, the Headmaster raised his wand, straight into the sky. "Aeroga!"

Immediately, the winds ceased, due to a visible barrier of air that had whipped itself into life, and was now deflecting the winds away from the ship.

Everyone breathed an audible sigh of relief, feeling safe... for the moment.

"I see an opening! I'm going to land!" Trowa declared loudly, and the ship smoothly turned towards the opening, obscured by the jet black wall of stone.

The feeling of safety deserted all aboard.

_What would they find on this island?

* * *

_

Even higher, in the heavens, the person everyone on the ship were all secretly hoping was on the island watched from one of Sanctuary's balconies with impassive eyes.

Lily flapped her wings, the only indication of her anxiety. "Master, they will land on Paradise soon." She said quietly, looking off the railing towards the small shape of the ship.

The Creator sighed. "You will go to meet them. I will stay nearby."

The Guardian shot him a quizzical look. "But Master-" Realizing she was about to correct her creator, she bit back her words. "What if they are hostile?"

Harry gave her a sad smile. "Then they must die."

* * *

With a final lurch, the _Destiny Seeker_ landed on Paradise. Most were still immersed in the impressive expanse of jungle that swept out to encompass the horizon.

Cautiously, a gangplank descended onto the ground.

"Captain, wait for us here." Professor Dumbledore instructed. Trowa nodded, no expression on his face. The Headmaster with Remus, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione following began to descend the gangplank.

Hestia Jones and a few other Order members shot the students a curious look, and made to follow. However, Dumbledore forestalled any more followers.

"Hestia, your in charge. You and the others watch the ship. We'll be back soon." Dumbledore said, but it was obviously an order.

Nodding reluctantly, she nodded to the others. "You heard the professor."

As the group descended and neared the woods, a loud flapping noise cut the air apart, like a startled bird's flight. The Headmaster glanced quickly at the vial in his hands, which was now still. Shocking everyone save him, the creature with the visage of Lily Potter descended in front of them her feet hovering inches from the unworthy ground as she used her wings effortlessly.

"What do you want with this place?" The angel demanded harshly, made all the more imposing by her shimmering golden armor and massive ivory sword.

"Lily? Is that you?" Remus asked hoarsely.

Turning her head towards him, the Guardian shot him a quizzical glance. "My name is Lily... but you must be referring to the Other Lily."

Nodding weakly, the werewolf felt a string of questions rise to his throat.

_What are you! Who are you! Why do you look like one of my dead best friends!_

Bitterly, a cynical part of Lupin's mind asked him which dead friend.

"We wish to negotiate an alliance with you... and your master." Dumbledore said loudly, taking over Lupin's place.

Lily turned her head towards the Headmaster, a defensive gleam in her eyes. "You will leave this place at once." She responded stoically.

"Please, Lily, I merely wish to-" The Headmaster began, but then the angel interrupted him.

"If you are adamant, then I will-" Lily stopped, and cocked her head as if listening to an unheard voice. Nodding reluctantly, she began again.

"You may meet with my master."

A figure stepped forward from the shadows of the trees as Lily finished her statement. From the build, it was most likely a young man. "Who are you, and what business do you have in Paradise?" He demanded, but the words were unheard as every eye was riveted to the tell-tale eyes and famous scar on the face of the newcomer.

It wasn't possible.

It couldn't be -

Merlin.

It was.

"Harry!"

* * *

Thanks to Pleione, japanese-jew, Zeromaru Chaos Mode, arekuruu-inabikari-no-She, Cows are my friends, reviewer, Emma Barrows, moonlightwitch, SeekerTLK, knuckz, angelkitty77, PinkyTheSnowman, FroBoy, Wren Truesong, SilverWarrior, Crysania Fay, OniLion, e.a.v., PersonaJXT, mashimaromadness, Lady of Masbolle, samuraiduck27, Dreamsprite5, darkangelgep, for reviewing!

Q&A

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She- No Oblivion Stone... but that Darksteel Colossus sounds nice. But its metal, and so is most of the Mirrodin set. No, I'll (and have) dip into the older piles. I've already used Bone Shredder (Urza Set), Simian Grunt (also Urza), and Wind Drake (multiple sets). More to come! (Hint: Sin is going to have a bit of Yawgmothian characteristics)

reviewer- Its okay. I don't know if I can work romance, but there is going to be H/G moments (not a kiss or anything like that).

SeekerTLK- You've got that one right. But by what, you'll have to find out. I promise it'll be surprising.

PinkyTheSnowman- Softy? (Snorts) Right... and I'm a big fan of writing fluff. Really. I am.

SilverWarrior- (grins) Don't underestimate Voldemort. He's smart here. He's a Slytherin, after all. They know how to and when they in turn are being manipulated. There doesn't look to be a sequel as of yet, and I can tell you for sure the Harry and Sin fight will be unorthodox and in here. Yup! I am a proud Dogma fan, along with an assortment of other fandoms.

e.a.v.- The confusion is key here. Is Harry insane? Is he a creator or divine? Or both?

PersonaJXT- Sin is not more powerful than Voldemort in any conventional terms. And as for why Harry can't destroy Sin... a few reasons that if I told you, would spoil a lot of things.

Dreamsprite5- Yes... awful blow. Awful indeed. (insane laugh) You understand the limits (or lack there of) of Harry's powers. Ask yourself. Does he? Does he know he can do that? And an angel has failed to kill his mortal foe. Logically, more may fail as well.

darkangelgep- Insanity may help you read this story. Yes, Lily is an embodiment of Harry's love for his mother, but she is also his protector, and since Lily is also the embodiment of unconditional protection at all costs, that is why she takes that visage. Now, Harry knows, just as he knows everything else he creates, that Sin is part of him. So ask yourself? What might happen if that part is destroyed?

AN: Hello everybody! Long time no see! (Sees glares) Right... sorry about that. Can anyone tell me what anime Trowa Barton belongs to (I don't own him, btw). I also don't own the spell Aeroga, which is property of Square Enix. Any guesses what game? (If you've played it, then you had to have used it... otherwise you would have died) Finally, join my yahoo group (link in profile).


	13. Fragments Of Divinity

Disclaimer- Nope, Harry Potter and his crew aren't mine. Just borrowin' em. Some lines here are from the books.

Chapter 13 Fragments of Divinity

There are moments in Eternity that are the entirety of Existence seems to pause.

A moment when all of Time stands still, when the Universe holds its breath.

Such was the moment when Harry Potter was finally reunited with his friends.

Ginny and Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Remus Lupin gaped unblinkingly, unable to look away. Even Albus Dumbledore could not tears his eyes away, and barely managed to hold his own surprise. Though he had expected, nay, hoped desperately that the Boy-Who-Lived was alive, it was still a shock.

The Guardian, Lily watched warily, pure ivory sword glimmering in the morning sun.

The epicenter of this moment was the Creator, the mad god-boy, Harry James Potter. For a moment, he stared at the newcomers with apprehension. But then, his eyes came unfocused, and memories, buried by madness, surface, jumbles of words and phrases that meant nothing and everything.

"_... this is Ron, our brother."_

"_I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"_

"_Ginny, my sister. She's been talking about you all summer."_

"_Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"_

"_Professor R.J. Lupin."_

_Fiery red hair, bushy brown hair, pure white hair with twinkling blue eyes, brown eyes, gray eyes, blue eyes..._

It was too much, too fast, an fragments of dreams and lifetimes burning into his mind, searing his vision.

He fell to the ground, overwhelmed.

Screams of concern and fear ripped the air apart, and three teens rushed towards the fallen god. However, a vicious hiss and a metallic clang cleaved the air in front of them, and Lily's ivory blade blocked their way.

"You will not harm the Creator." She whispered softly, but firmly.

Raising his hand appealingly, Dumbledore said softly, "We only wish to help him."

For a moment, the angel studied him curiously, weighing him, gauging him. After another moment, she nodded, and pulled her sword back. "I will be watching." Lily said quietly, and folded her wings behind herself.

After a few minutes, Harry stirred, his eyes creeping open slowly. "Moth- Lily..." He corrected halfway, unconsciously.

The Guardian knelt at his side. "What is it, master?" she asked concernedly.

"What happened?" the Creator murmured, staggering to his feet. His eyes caught sight of the newcomers, and soft breath escaped his lips.

A word formed... "Friends..."

Nodding feverently, Hermione nearly shouted hysterically, "Yes Harry! We're your friends!"

Nearly falling backwards, Harry held his head in one hand. "I... I don't remember. The memories are there... but its all fuzzy..." After a moment, he straightened. "We... we should talk somewhere else."

"Nice... place you've got here, Harry." Ron said nervously, glancing about the ominous jungle beyond them.

"Not here... s'dangerous." the Boy-Who-Lived murmured, waving his hand in the air, closing his eyes. His mind reached out, and grasped hold.

Collective gasps chorused as a large, at least three meter wide and long stone platform soared into the air from the jungle horizon, and placed itself, hovering, in front of them.

Harry stepped on, glancing at them. "You coming?"

Deep within the fortress of Death, a demon raged.

Bellatrix Lestrange lay prostrate, screaming untold pain as the Dark Lord tortured her mercilessly. She sobbed in anguish, managing short, loud shouts of apologies.

His temper unappeased, Lord Voldemort backhanded her with his artificial arm, sending her toppling to the floor. The dark power within the arm was hungry, chanting in fevered pitch, desiring Bellatrix's death.

But he let her live, grudgingly, knowing that he had none to replace her position in the circle. To take away a loyal servant this early in the game was unwise.

At the very least, she came away with knowledge of an island where that damned Angel roosted.

"Marshal my Death Eaters. We strike soon." Lord Voldemort hissed. "Now leave me."

Still sobbing in anguish, Bellatrix Lestrange crawled away.

"Bloody hell... what is this place?" Ron muttered, glancing at the floating castle in undisguised awe.

Harry smiled, sweeping his hand to encompass the structure. "My creation... my fortress."

"It's... impressive." Remus said slowly, jaw still open.

"How do we get inside, Harry?" Hermione asked, searching the flying fortress for any openings where the stone platform could dock.

"Just wait." The Creator continued smiling, as he closed his eyes. Soundlessly, a large, spherical hole opened itself in the once solid stone wall of the structure.

"That's not possible!" Hermione protested, turning towards her once lost friend.

Harry smiled insanely. "Anything is possible for me..."

Harry ushered them into a small dining hall, one he rather liked for its homey feeling. "We can talk here." He paused, and glanced at them. He had never served guests. "Do you want anything?"

"Some food." Ron said immediately, causing a ripple of laughter with the others.

"A drink would be nice." Remus admitted, taking a seat.

Nodding, the Creator pushed his will into the stone, and within moments, the liquid-like stone placed a plate of fruits and a tray of drinks on the table.

"How... how did you..." Ginny stuttered disbelievingly.

"This place... all of it, is mine. My will directs it." Harry replied calmly, grabbing one fruit and biting in. "It's quite good." He assured them.

Dumbledore finally spoke. "Harry... what do you mean it's yours?" he asked slowly, half knowing the answer already.

Glancing at him, the boy-god said simply, "I created it."

"Ah. That's what I suspected." The Headmaster nodded, leaning into his chair. "Do you... understand these powers?"

"What powers?" Hermione demanded, not liking the fact she had no idea what was going on.

"Mister Potter has manifested a most rare and... some might say, divine power." Dumbledore explained, sampling one pale yellow fruit. He smiled. "That is quite good Harry."

"Potter?" Harry asked, confused.

The Headmaster's eyebrow raised itself to an almost unbelievable height, while everyone else coughed and glancing at their once lost savior in disbelief. "That's your last name, Harry." Hermione said, almost pleadingly, begging him to remember.

A spike of pain drove itself into the mind of the Creator, but he blinked it away. "Ah." He paused, and glanced at Dumbledore. "You know what my power is?"

"To a certain degree, yes." The old man replied. "I will explain. What Mister Potter wields is the power of Creation, true creation, not conjuring, not transfiguration. He can create new objects by merely willing them into being. Documented accounts of this ability are rare, most exist as oral legends, and none in these past millennia." The Headmaster paused, glancing at the stunned faces of his companions.

"Creation magic?" Hermione asked skeptically.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, this is not magic. This is beyond magic... this... it is like wielding one of the fragments of divinity, a piece of the inferno of Creation that birthed the Universe."

The statement sent the gathered into a stunned silence.

"What happened to the others... who had my power?" Harry asked curiously, breaking the silence.

The Headmaster paused, looking unsure and hesitant. "Be aware, these are mostly legends and dubious accounts. But... from all accounts, the ancient Creators went mad with their own power, and eventually either lost their minds or their lives."

Harry leaned out against the railing, completely unafraid, lost in his own mind.

After all, what Creator is afraid when he is within his own fortress, his own Heaven?

Below, his creations screeched and howled, reflecting their progenitor's mental anguish. Even the trees whistled with an angry wind, and the stone beneath his feet rippled constantly, reflecting his mercurial mind.

He lifted his hands off the railing, and looked at them. Innocuous, normal, calloused.

The hands of a god.

Harry didn't try to deny what Dumbledore had said hours ago. He knew it... felt the madness that lurked just at the edges of his conscious mind, knew the temptations of power. And he knew that he would not resist the destructive siren forever.

He looked up at the sky, at the crescent moon, that glimmered and shined. Could he make one?

The powers of Creation bubbled and rose within him, but Harry shoved them down. Not yet.

"Harry?"

The Creator turned warily, and caught sight of a diminutive redhead. "Hello Ginny." He greeted, the names flowing from still shadowed memory.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asked quietly, stepping backwards.

"No... I think I've been alone enough for a while." Harry remarked wryly. The presence of other people, things he hadn't created, was a stabilizing force for him, helping keep him sane...

For the moment.

"I suppose so." Ginny said, giggling slightly. A cold wind blew by, and she clutched her robes tighter against her petite frame. "It's cold tonight..." she whispered, shivering.

"We're a way up, so I guess so." The boy-god replied, leaning against the rail.

"Aren't you afraid you'll fall?" the redhead asked curiously, a noticeably safer distance from the balcony edge.

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head. "I... I know I won't." He responded softly, glancing at the stone.

"Because you can make the stone do anything you want?" Ginny said wryly, smiling.

Harry chuckled. "Something like that." He failed to mention that within hearing distance was also the Guardian, who would make doubly sure that the Creator did not fall to his doom.

A silence fell between them.

"You're frightened, aren't you?" Ginny said quietly, not really questioning. At Harry's confused look, she continued, "You're afraid of what you could do, and what will happen to you."

Nodding, the Boy-Who-Lived whispered softly, "I... I have all this power, but I don't know what to do with it. I'm scared I'll make a mistake and..."

"And you'll end up hurting someone." The redhead finished, smiling slightly as she shook her head. "You know, you may have lost your memory, Harry Potter, but you're still the same."

"How?" the boy-god asked desperately, needing to know more about who he was... before he had the power of Creation.

Ginny smiled, her pale face illuminated by moonlight. It caused a slight hitch in Harry's throat. "You'll still try to protect people, no matter what." She said, half to herself, remembering how he had selflessly stepped in front of her at the Department of Mysteries, not to mention the Chamber incident...

"Thanks." Harry murmured softly. He wanted to do something to pay her back, for helping him take his mind off of what happened to his predecessors, and what sort of power he wielded. On a burst of inspiration, he held his hand out, and closed his eyes, imagining it in his mind.

Ginny gasped slightly, eyes wide. A single, delicate flower, appeared in his hand. Its pale crimson petals were arranged in an unnaturally complex manner, making it seem a beautiful conundrum.

"For you, milady." Harry said jokingly, but his eyes were sincere as he handed her the flower.

"Thank you, good sir." Ginny replied, pseudo-courteously, placing the flower in her hair.

That night, for the first time since he woke up on that deserted island, Harry Potter slept peacefully.

But, far away, his mortal enemy did not sleep, plotting his assault on Paradise...

* * *

Review Response 

arekuruu-inabikari-no-She - Definitely some Invansion Cycle, less Myrridin. Though yes, Darksteel Colossus would scare D.E.'s to death.

PinkyTheSnowman- Well, finally is key, again. I know its confusing... hell, I think I'm confused.

darkangelgep - That was confusing, but yes.

Cream And Sugar- All good questions... which I won't answer. But keep them in mind.

Dr Gero- Not from Tales of Destiny. And yes, Trowa did have the badass Heavyarms gundam.

Maxennce- I try, I try. I love cliffhangers, and yes, you will get more. And worse ones.

And thanks to BellonaBellatrix, Zeromaru: Chaos Mode, Be'lal, Rose Of ManyThorns, Night Wanderer, japanese-jew, samuraiduck27, Wren Truesong, FroBoy, Lady of Masbolle, Grey Granian, Silver Warrior, moonlightwitch, Emma Barrows, Dead Feather,Black Padfoot, Pleione, rain singala, Xurtan, LifeWriter, APS, AngelStarCat, mashimaromadness, blah29, drgn prncss, andLuciferIsDivinefor reviewing!

AN: It would be really nice if you joined my Yahoo group too! I promise, plenty of good things like faster updates and discussions take place there... sometimes.


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